#it should be easy enough to scroll past

[buttercuparry]

It is deeply sickening how even privacy has become a luxury for palestinians who are fundraising on this website. Since October 7th, Gazans have had to document their own genocide at great cost to themselves for no fault of their own;  they have had to risk their lives to show you the bombings; they have had to record themselves bleeding. 

They have had to show the tremendous personal loss they have suffered and their grief of it - all so that the Zionist narrative wouldn't be the only thing that gets peddled around in the digital space. But it seems like the more the months pass, and the atrocities keep mounting - the more people in the online space become desensitized to the suffering, and in fact are convinced that they are owed these documentation to even begin to care ( it has become especially clear after the recent smear campaign that put the entire demographic under horrible scrutiny ). 

It is honestly so disgustingly voyeuristic to me- this demand to be allowed into someone’s grief so that you can be convinced that they too are of flesh and blood, to demand that they put their suffering on display for your judgement on their authenticity, to put the burden on THEM to do the work of breaking you out of your easy apathy towards their suffering.

For months, my friend Siraj Abudayeh ( @siraj2024 ) has tried to protect his and his family’s privacy. For months he has talked of Gaza and given you updates as is his capacity as a journalist. He thought that this would be enough for the people to understand just how much his family has to fight everyday to survive. But it seems like that didn't really cut it for a lot of users on tumblr, because his fundraiser stagnates every 12 hours when his updates stop circulating around tumblr. 

So as much as it pains him to share this with an apathetic audience that may very well scroll past this post- he has agreed to talk a bit about his precious son, Amir, who has fallen sick with an infectious skin disease. 

So don't you dare ignore this!!

You have demanded that Siraj perform; that he prove that he is a real person with a real family to protect- so here is Siraj with a story about his son. It is a reflection of how desperate he feels to willingly give up the privacy he fought to protect for months. So you better pay attention now!

Siraj's son Amir is a stubborn boy. It is impossible to move him from his position once he is convinced of something. This also makes him competitive and Siraj is proud to say that Amir had been on his school’s swimming team. “First level in the swimming course,” Siraj tells me with obvious pride. Amir has an exceptional ability to memorize too- quickly moving through his lessons and thus almost always having a place in the school celebrations of outstanding students. 

Amir is stubbornly kind too. Amidst the bombings - this little boy didn't think of only saving himself. He carried his cat Jimmy all the way from the North of Gaza to the South. In Siraj’s words: He did not leave Jimmy for a moment, not even to take his shoes off, when it tore after hours of walking. 

The two month old cat died a month into their displacement - with no food available, Amir had to watch his beloved pet waste away, desperate and yet unable to help in anyway. Tell me now, is this horrifying tidbit sufficient documentation of Amir’s unchilding? Is this enough? 

Or do you also want to know of the shock Amir received on learning that his cousins have been martyred? Will you make Siraj describe this in all of its horrifying detail too? How his child has lost so much of his childhood to this war when he should be studying, going to school, and playing with his brothers and friends instead?

Their books, their school, their pet, their toys have all been lost in this genocide. Do they have to lay out all the indignities they are facing at your feet, do they have to lose the litle privacy they have left in that cramped, pest-ridden tent of theirs to convince you to not turn the other way?

Tell me what will finally be enough to make you pay attention?? What would be enough to convince you that Siraj’s survival fund is as much an emergency as all the other evacuation funds ?? I will ask him to share and we can all lay it out for you, because apparently some of you need a record of all that suffering presented to you like its a portfolio to give a fuck.

Siraj is tired, his wife Halima is too. Amir and his siblings have lost so much of themselves during these past 10 months. None of them are the people they used to be, and it is something they will carry for the rest of their lives!!

So please!

Please if Siraj has performed enough for you, then fucking donate to his campaign.

He has been fundraising from June!!! He has talked to hundreds of people and has bonded with enough of them to be considered a personal friend of theirs. Many have even agreed to share his story and many others have offered to hold commissions and raffles for him- but despite this, he still hasn't even crossed the halfway mark of his campaign yet!! What can a handful of friends do? When the mass of tumblr population isn't convinced of his suffering!

Amir is in constant pain right now due to the infection- and his brothers are beginning to show similar symptoms as him. They are all very unwell. 

The money would go to helping Amir and his brothers survive!!

I can't tell you how frustrating it is to see this everyday when i personally know just how much Siraj sacrifices to make his presence known here- from braving the 3km route when he can get caught in crossfire- all so that he may have a hotspot connection at an exorbitant price. It burns away the money that might have gone into acquiring food and water.

WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME!!!

SIRAJ NEEDS TO GET TO 40K WITHIN THIS WEEK SO THAT WE CAN BEGIN TO WORK TOWARDS THE LATTER HALF OF THE CAMPAIGN.

THIS IS URGENT. SIRAJ NEEDS TO MOVE ONTO HIS NEXT GOALS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE TO GET HIS KIDS TO SAFETY!

PLEASE DONATE ANY AMOUNT YOU CAN SPARE, THIS CANNOT WAIT.

Every MINUTE, every  SECOND we delay meeting his goal, it costs siraj and his family more than some of us will ever understand.

Please help him out. It is the least we can do right now-> vetting at 219 on Hussein's spreadsheet.

[amuyyi]

warm enough .

synopsis; recovering from an expected breakup, you find yourself drunk at a nearby bar, encountering an unfamiliar girl who happens to know your ex.

trope; non idol!ningning x fem!reader, uni au, fluff, a little angst, a little suggestive, strangers to lovers, feat. kep1er members :3

wc; 4.8k

cw; a little suggestive but not really

a/n; fun fact this happened to me irl ! figured i could use my experiences for stories ! everything from the breakup to the bar kiss is based on my personal experience so lol have fun. also its kinda poorly written because i wrote some of it while on the plane + in china while being very tired and i dont feel like proofreading so im sorry ^^'

The breakup was supposed to be a mutual thing. A smooth and easy agreement between you and Jimin. You guys met in a cafe when your soon-to-be-ex girlfriend finally dropped the bomb on you. 

“I still care a lot about you, y/n. But I want to focus on myself and my future… I think you should too.”

You wanted to speak up, say that you didn’t want to let go yet. Just… hold on for a little longer. Maybe it’d get better if you guys just kept it going for another week. Another month. Another day?

 “What I’m trying to say is…”

You always hated this part.

“I think we should break up.”

Despite the older girl being the one to initiate the ending of the relationship, you always knew it was coming. Jimin was sweet, and you definitely did enjoy the little dates you guys had been on through the past year, but there was something missing. Every time she looked at you, it seemed like she was looking through your eyes into her own. Her mind was always elsewhere whenever you two were together, like she was searching for something you couldn’t provide. She never seemed to smile around you, never laughed loudly or hugged you with warmth. 

You really tried to be the person for her, you really did; but it was apparent that she was trying to convince herself you were the one as well.

It was shown in the way she bought you endless gifts with things you said you wanted, but never kissed you, In the way she would allow you to hold her hand, but never reached out herself, how she couldn’t bring herself to say “I love you” out loud. Jimin was cold.

You agreed that this was the best path to take, how you felt the exact same way and that it would be good for the both of you, but the tears that nonconsensually left your eyes said otherwise. You still remember the last words you told her before you got up to leave.

“I really hoped it was you.”

There's a saying or the other. “Your body will know if someone is right for you.” You came across it while aimlessly scrolling on social media once, and you thought it was an interesting but ridiculous concept. Countless people would share stories about how their hair would fall out or how they would break out into horrible acne when they were with their past partners, only being relieved from this when single or with their “match.”

It was funny, and you didn’t believe one bit of it until it actually happened. The tightness in your chest that followed you every time you two went out together, the stress of wondering if she actually enjoyed her company, the way you couldn’t truly relax in her presence– it all went away. It all left when she walked out of your life, and you’ve never felt more at peace with a decision. At least, for a little bit.

The breakup was the easy part. It was the recovery that ruined you.

You were the one to establish a rule of no contact, even after you both expressed wanting to stay in touch. It was your only way to hold on to the last sliver of pride you had left after spending a year chasing after Yu Jimin. The rule was established to allow you some time to heal, and you hoped to return to the girl as friends once you felt ready.

With this in mind, you then proceeded to spend a month barely eating, barely sleeping, and not leaving your apartment unless you needed to for classes. It was difficult to be on your own after dedicating so much time to her, falling behind, hoping that she would see you the way you saw her; but after about a month, you slowly felt yourself regaining your footing.

You started going out again, talking with your roommate, taking time to actually care for yourself. It was nice. Perhaps your progress would have left you comfortable enough to move on if you didn’t decide to go out that day.

There she was. Yu Jimin. After an exact 31 days of no contact with her, you finally cross paths. Quite literally, at that– but she wasn’t alone. There was a girl on her arm. She was pretty. Blonde with bobbed hair and a soft smile that made it impossible to hate her. Jimin was smiling too. This is the first time you’ve seen her smile like that, smiling as if she found what she was looking for after all of this time. She doesn't look past her. She sees her.

Jimin holds the other girl by the small of her waist the way she used to do with you, and she kisses her. She kissed her. Just like how she used to kiss you, but not exactly. There's love in her eyes. A warmth you’ve never seen before. In her eyes, there is certainty.

And that was the day your world came crashing down on top of you.

You tried to act normal as you walked past. You really did. Your eyes remain glued to your phone as your knuckles turn white. Her eyes didn’t even meet yours as you walked by. Why wouldn't she look at you? Maybe she's wondering why you won't look at her. That must be it. You hold your breath. As soon as she passed by, you couldn’t help yourself. You made the mistake of looking back.

…Nothing.

As soon as Jimin was out of sight, you cried. You ran home, scaring half the life out of your poor roommate, Xiaoting, as you collapsed in your bed. Everything hurts. Why did it hurt? You wanted this. You felt better without her— the tightness in your chest was gone. 

Instead, it was replaced by an indescribably painful ache. One that felt so deep within your soul it would never heal. Quietly entering your room, Xiaoting says nothing as she sits next to your limp body on the bed, rubbing your back comfortingly. The gesture only makes you sob even harder. 

She's been with you through it all. From the beginning of your relationship with Jimin till the end, she was there. Xiaoting really was a good friend.

From then on, Xiaoting’s one goal was simple: cheer you up. She would cook at least once for you every day despite not being the best chef, and she would allow you to rant about the same things over and over no matter how overbearing it got. Honestly, you started to feel a little bad. She shouldn’t have to bend over backwards for you just because you’re a little sad.

So when Xiaoting announces that you will be joining her at the bar with her friends tonight, you couldn't say no. Both because she stated it, not asked you, and that it simply was the least you could do for her. Especially after everything she’s done for you. Before you knew it, you were dressed up in your best (slutty) corset top and cargo pants with some hoops and over exaggerated makeup to accent the look. Xiaoting, as your best roommate and friend, matches with you, and you two make a big scene out of getting ready together; blasting music, doing each other's hair, borrowing each other's clothes, and more.

Xiaoting’s girlfriend Yujin had made herself at home for the pregame, and your mutual friend Hikaru soon followed. With Xiaoting as designated bartender, the four of you mingle, laughing and cracking jokes as the warmth of the alcohol and one another’s presence left you with a warming buzz. Xiaoting was an excellent mixer, and in combination with the chasers Hikaru bought and the drinking games Yujin proposed, you were all ready to go. 

Xiaoting and Yujin led the way, hand in hand as you and Hikaru trailed behind, drunkenly singing into the cold night air as you trek to the nearest bar.

Being a Friday night, the establishment had been as packed as expected, and you all squeezed your way past other visitors as you’re guided to a nearby table. Xiaoting starts off strong, ordering shots for the entire group before utilizing her combined charm alongside her girlfriend’s looks to convince guys to purchase drinks for everyone as well. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way the duo would bat their eyelashes innocently at lone men for drinks– but at least it worked.

Lazily, your eyes wander through the crowd, the alcohol in your system making it a struggle to see straight. Despite your inability to see properly, you still manage to catch a glimpse of your friends from the corner of your eye, and easily spot Yujin attempting to very publicly make out with Xiaoting as Hikaru struggles to pull her away. You stifle a laugh at the sight, and decide to leave the three to their antics whilst you look for someone to talk to.

It's been a while since you last struck up a conversation with a stranger. The last time you had put yourself out there was before you met… 

You shake your head. No. You are not letting your stupid ex ruin your night. Knitting your brows in concentration, you scan the bar. There were plenty of pretty girls to talk to, but you were feeling a little intimidated. Almost all of them came with at least one other person, and you didn’t want to intrude on anything…

 Your eyes landed on a lone blonde at the end of the table, scrolling through her phone with alcohol flushed cheeks. She seemed approachable. Worst case scenario, she simply shoos you off. Taking a deep breath, you approach the blonde, deciding to pull out your best conversation starter.

“Are you chinese? You look chinese!!” You exclaim, suddenly switching to mandarin in the middle of your sentence as you ask the question. Smooth.

The blonde girl looks as if she would’ve been extremely offended at the comment if you didn't just speak to her in her native tongue halfway through your sentence, and she quirks a brow at you, an amused smirk on her lips as she leans against the bar. 

“Yeah, I am! What's a cutie like you doing in a place like this alone??” 

You feel your heart begin to race. So far so good. “I'm not alone!!! My friends are just busy making out with each other and the other is trying to stop them!!” You also lean on the bar, though not as alluring as the blonde before you. More like you partially collapsed and partially slid on it.

She chortles at your response, “well that's not fair to you, leaving you here all alone.”

The sweet and somewhat sultry tone of the blonde makes (non alcohol induced) blush appear on your face as you laugh, “it really isn't! But whatever! My name is y/n by the way!! What's yours??” You scream over the music, sticking your hand out. It was an unexpectedly polite gesture considering your circumstances, and perhaps it may have seemed a bit comical as well with how drunk you were.

She giggles at the response, grabbing your hand then pulling you in, her lips dangerously close to your ear as she yells over the music, “Ning Yizhuo. But call me Ningning! It's cuter!”

You grin. Ningning was a cute nickname. You decided at this very moment you could trust this cute stranger with your life story and personal information she didn’t ask for, and begin to slur out.

“My friends dragged me out here because I was sad over my ex who moved on from me a month after the breakup even though we dated for a year and she's a big jerk for that even though I wish only the best for her but also I hope she dies!!!”

None of the words you spoke just now came out clear, and they seemed to trip over one another when leaving your mouth, but it was enough for the other girl to go from extremely relaxed to suddenly very heated. She stands up straight as her eyebrows knit together.

“To be honest I don’t think she ever really liked me in the first place! I don’t know!! Whatever it doesn’t matter!!!” You continue on, sounding absolutely pathetic as you let yourself feel through the anger you didn’t even know you were repressing, “I was stupid to stay with someone who couldn’t even look me in the eye when saying she loved me!! She was stupid to do the same!! Whatever!! I don’t know!!”

Ningning cuts you off with a raised hand before you can continue, “what the hell?! I hate people like that!!  You're wayyyy too hot to be treated that way! Who is she? What's her name?? I might know her!!”

Against your better drunken judgment, you decide to name drop your ex within a university bar. Because that is always a good idea. “Yu Jimin!! She's a engineering major !!!”

Ningning’s jaw drops as she stares at you, almost as if she were trying to find the correct words for what she has to say next.

“Girl, I know her !!!” She screams out after a brief moment of silence,  “we shared a class together once!! Oh my god I'm so sorry I didn't know she was like that!! You deserve BETTER!” 

Before you could even think of what to say in reaction to that heavy load of information, Ningning grabs your face, pulling you into a kiss. It was a very messy one, her lips almost missing your own during the exchange. Seems like she's not entirely sober either. 

Still, even in your drunken state you knew what to do. Your hands immediately find Ningnings hair as you pull her in closer, and you can feel her smiling as she grazes her tongue over the bottom of your lip. 

You open your mouth to let her in and the only thing that you can think of or even feel for that matter is Ningning and her tongue. She… was really good at this. Jimin never kissed you like this before. Her hands trail down your back to your ass before she squeezes it, smirking when you squirm against her touch.

She breaks the kiss, her face inches away from yours as she breathes out, “you deserve so much better…” Ningning gives you a quick peck on the lips before stepping back, taking in her work with a devilish glint in her eyes. You stare at her dumbfounded for a moment before whipping out your phone, fully talking in your appearance. Your hair and makeup were a wreck. How did all of that happen just now?

“Done by yours truly~” Ningning winks at you, quickly slipping your phone out of your hand and typing something in.

“Wh— Wait what are you doing?”

“Giving you my number, obviously. My girls are gonna wonder where I went.” She hands back your phone and looks at you with soft eyes through her drunken daze. 

“Take care of yourself, yeah?” Ningning kisses you one last time, giving your hand a squeeze before letting go. She disappears into the crowd of partygoers, a sly fox-like grin on her face.

“There you are!” 

You feel an arm land on your shoulder as you jump, twirling around and looking down to see a drunk Hikaru with a slightly less drunk Xiaoting and an absolutely hammered Yujin on her side.

“We should probably head back home!” Xiaoting screams into your ear, “Hikaru’s gonna knock out on the couch and Yujin will be with me!”

Her words barely make it through to you, the music and the alcohol and the adrenaline within your system muffling out every word spoken. Regardless, you still nod and trail behind your friends as you leave, not all too sure what just happened.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You lay in bed, eyes practically burning holes into the new contact in your phone. “宁宁<3” is what it said. 

So last night wasn’t just a dream. You really did just get a girl's number by doing nothing but spilling your secrets to a stranger. On top of all of that, your head was absolutely killing you, you swore you could feel your heartbeat within your brain. Still, that wasn’t important. Biting your lip, your fingers hover over the contact name. Should you message her? 

y/n [10:59]  — hey !! its y/n, the girl from the bar

y/n [10:59]  — thanks for keeping me company last night :)

ningning [11:06]  — i was wondering if u were gonna text me back

ningning [11:06] — and of course <3 jimin doesn’t know what she lost

y/n [11:08] — haha im flattered

y/n [11:08]  — but u barely know me??

ningning [11:11]  — that can change xx

Your eyes widen as you reread the text over and over again. Is she implying what you think she's implying? What if she's just being friendly? Can you even platonically make out with someone at the bar?

y/n [11:16] — are u asking me out on a date ning yizhuo ?

You wait. 

Oh god. What if she was just being friendly?

ningning [11:18]  — only if youll have me 

You feel yourself blush at her message, burying your face into your pillow as you squeal like a high school teenager in love. It was embarrassing in hindsight, but.. it felt nice to be wanted. 

y/n [11:19] —  of course

ningning [11:19] — perfect <3 

ningning [11:20] — dinner at my place tonight then? 

ningning [11:20] — If youre not too hungover.. 

ningning [11:20] — i got the best hangover cures ;)

you can't help but arch your eyebrow at the winky face she added at the end but brushed it off, more focused on the fact that your drunk hatred towards your ex landed you a date. 

You scramble to your feet and (metaphorically) kick down Xiaoting’s door, abruptly waking the girl from her nap as she screams out, “WO CAO!” She places a hand over her heart as she bolts up within her bed, immediately letting out a sigh of relief when she realizes it was just you. 

“Girl what the HELL is wrong with you?!” She hisses, laying back down and throwing the blanket over her head.

You, being the ever loving and best roommate ever, respond to this by jumping into bed with (on top of) the redhead and squeezing her as tight as you can while screaming “I HAVE A DATE!!!”

Xiaoting shoots back up, your arms still latched onto her torso as she looks down at you, eyes wide. “Wait, are you serious?”

You hear a low groan and a hand slapping your arm as you roll your eyes, slapping the arm back as the voice of Yujin grumbles out and shuffles deeper within the sheets.

Both you and Xiaoting look at one another and giggle before she quietly slips out of bed, quickly placing a kiss on Yujins head before grabbing your arm and leading you out of her room. Once outside, she firmly grasps your shoulders. 

“Okay, now tell me everything.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You nervously stand outside of Ningnings apartment, bag clutched in hand as you look back behind you. Xiaoting sat within her car on the side of the road, keeping an eye on you to make sure this girl wasn’t going to kidnap you or the other.

The two of you (and soon enough Yujin and Hikaru) had spent the day giving you pointers on how to go about the date. They had thrown an ungodly amount of clothes your way as well as telling you endless conversation starters and compliments to give another person. By the end of it all your head was overflowing with information that you were going to forget as soon as you head out the door, and all of your closet was sprawled on your bedroom floor and in the living room. Still, the girls seemed quite proud of their work.

All of you had consecutively agreed on an outfit that was nice, but not too nice. You wore a plaid skirt paired with a simple tank top and an off the shoulder cardigan.

Holding your breath, you ring the doorbell. You really hoped this wasn’t a mistake. When was the last time you were actually on a date with someone? You couldn't remember. After a few moments of silence, you hear shuffling followed by the door unlocking and Ningning poking her head out shyly. Her eyes light up at the sight of you before opening the door completely, revealing her outfit.

She wore an oversized plaid button up, unintentionally matching with your skirt alongside baggy jeans and some bunny slippers you thought were incredibly cute. Her hair was tied up in a messy but charming bun, held up by a hair stick with small gemstones dangling from the end.

This Ningning was completely different from the one you had met at the bar last night. Though, you suppose you were a different person now as well.

“You're here! Come in come in!” She grabs your hand and guides you inside. Flustered, you spare a quick glance behind you, and you can spot the silhouette of Xiaoting throwing a thumbs up from her car before Ningning closes the door behind you.

“You look gorgeous today, by the way,” Ningning compliments, her thumb rubbing over your fingers as she walks you through her apartment. The gesture makes your cheeks warm, and you find yourself easing into her touch like putty. It was a touch that was loving. Kind. Intentional. 

Her home was cozy, with white walls paired alongside warm lighting and paintings and other wall art lining the interior. There was an appetizing aroma that wafted through the air, and you had remembered that Ningning had offered to cook for you.

“What have you prepared for us tonight, chef Ningning?” You ask, squeezing her hand as she grins, “Well it's not much, I'm not a really good cook but I decided to make us some dumplings! A little basic, but it's the only dish I feel like I’ve actually perfected.”

“I hope this is the hangover cure you mentioned” you comment lightheartedly, and you sense a playful energy in the way she looks back at you.

“You'll find out soon enough.”

You once again find yourself quirking a brow at her vague answers, but she simply smiles at you innocently and you find yourself smiling back. It was hard to not be amused by her.

Ningning guides you to the kitchen, which was cleaned perfectly for your arrival. On the center of the table were multiple bamboo steamer baskets, as well as a large tea pot and a simple glass bottle with various native wildflowers as a centerpiece. 

The other girl pulls out a chair for you, and you teasing grin at the polite gesture, “how romantic, Ninging~”

She rolls her eyes and giggles before settling down herself, instantaneously pouring you a cup of tea as she gestures at the baskets, “go on, dig in. I’ll be personally offended if you don’t.”

Chuckling, you open up the baskets, releasing clouds of steam before revealing multiple handmade dumplings with various fillings and differing folding styles. Your eyes widen, and you simply comment, “wow,” before taking the first bite of the food.

To say that it tasted amazing was an understatement– you practically felt like you were thrown back to the motherland with a single bite, and it wasn’t long before you were filling your plate with more.

The two of you had spent the rest of the evening getting to know one another more. You had learned she was a computer science major and going onto her third year of uni, as well as the fact she was from Harbing whilst you shared that you were from Shanghai. 

“Big city girl, huh?” Ningning amusedly comments, sipping on her tea as you roll your eyes, “yeah… But I'm not rich or anything before you ask.”

The blonde feigns rejection as she snaps her fingers, “damn. I was gonna ask you to buy drinks next time we head to the bars, I think you owe me. ” She smiles at you, and it's warm.

You liked this. You liked how easy it was to talk to her. It was never this easy before.

Soon enough you had ended up on Ningning’s couch, browsing through movies aimlessly as the hefty meal threatened to send you into a food coma. The blonde lay comfortably in your arms underneath a blanket, her eyes occasionally fluttering shut as you continued to search for something to watch.

“Hmm, what about… Velocipastor?” The name completely throws you off guard, prompting you to click on it, skimming over the description as you feel the vibration of Ninging lazily humming beneath you. 

“Oh that movie is really good, trust me.”

“... Really? Are you sure, Ning?”

“Yeah yeah…” Her eyes were already shut as she spoke, nuzzling in closer to you as you chuckle, putting on the movie as you wrap your arms around her, pulling her in closer. 

Honestly, the movie seemed to be an excuse for the girl to be physically close to you– maybe get a nap in? You weren’t even sure if she was watching the movie at this point. Still, maybe it was for the best. Velocipastor was definitely not well funded within its production, that much could be seen. Plus, you couldn't complain about having a cute girl in your arms.

“Does your head still hurt?”

Ningning’s soft voice rings out, startling you. Honestly, you were getting pretty invested in the film, you had thought she already fell asleep.

“Mmm, a little. I don’t think your hangover cure worked.”

“Oh, the dumplings weren’t the cure.”

Your head cocks to the side as you tear your gaze away from the tv screen, looking down at the girl nestled on your chest as she looks back up at you. There was that all too familiar glint in her eyes again.

“Then what is?”

A mischievous grin curls on her lips before she leans in, connecting her lips with yours. Still a bit sluggish from the night before alongside a hefty meal, her kissing was a bit sloppy, but it was soft. Much softer than before.

You feel yourself almost immediately sigh into the kiss, and you would have found it embarrassing if she didnt guide her hand up your chest, to your neck, and into your hair, soon deepening the kiss. 

Not expecting things to escalate so soon, you couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper as your hands landed on her hips, nails digging into her sides desperately as she laughs against your lips, pulling back. 

“You’re really cute, y’know?” She purrs, using her hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face, and you can see the hint of pink spread across her lips as she smiles, drinking in the sight of you.

Before you even have a chance to respond, Ningning tackles your jawline, trailing kisses down your face and onto your neck. You try to respond, but when she starts to nip the side of your neck, the words you wanted to say somehow managed to melt into complete mush.

“Mmhmmhgh…” 

The sound that escapes your lips allows you the chance to actually feel embarrassed, and you slam a hand over your lips, looking away from Ninging. Your response elicits another laugh from the blonde, and you swear you could listen to the sound forever. 

Her symphony soon quiets though, and Ningning looks you straight in the eye, her gaze softening as she opens her mouth, struggling to find the right words to say.

“Look, I know we just met…” she trails off for a moment, almost a bit shy to continue, “but if you want to give me a chance and see where this goes, I promise I’ll treat you so well.” 

Her eyes are filled with genuine desire for you, and you couldn’t help but feel… Isolated? Targetted? For the first time you feel like you’re seen, and you don’t know what to do about it.

She presses on, “I’d really like to see you again, and I know you’re going through a lot right now but I want to be there with you every step of the way. I want to see where this takes us.”

“I want you, y/n.”

Your face heats up instantaneously, and you swear your eyes were threatening to bulge out of your skull right then and there. You look at her in silence as you struggle to find your words, and after a few seconds you finally croak out,

“I… I want to see where this takes us too, Ningning.”

Her eyes brighten at your response, and she beams, pulling you into a tight hug on the couch before interlocking her lips with yours once again. You giggle into the kiss, and throw the blanket over the two of you as the movie on the tv buzzed on. For the first time, you found someone warm enough for you.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 ICARIAN

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai had known he was flying too close to the sun, he should have stopped himself while he still had the chance. {wordcount: 11.5k; fem!reader, romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: installment fiveeeee otherwise known as part 2 of installment four LOL! ugh guys i'm dragging myself thru the trenches right now i'm so miserable - i wasn't even up to posting this today i won't lie but </3 i pulled thru </3 if only barely. fun fact this is actually only a 3 scene chapter but the second scene is just MASSIVE. i wasn't up to restructuring so you guys are just going to get it as it is. this is also unedited because i just wasn't up to it so bear with me regarding mistakes. JUST TO REMIND YOU ALL: the last installment is DELAYED - i have 3 finals next week and haven't had the time to finish it. it will be up by the end of may </3 sorry guys. wow this actually is attempt number three trying to post this correctly - i'm so shot

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR 17 & UNDER FOLLOWING THE SERIES: partially copy and pasted from badlands - if you guys read badlands, you know the deal. y'all knew what you were getting into. this is the smut chapter. but again, i'm not going to ask y'all to not interact/read a whole 12k chapter just because there's 4k words of smut, but i am going to say here the smut is in the SECOND scene. there is very little plot development in the smut itself, so i ask you guys, again, to respectfully scroll past it. i'll make the sentence when the smut starts red like this so you know that's when it starts, and then you can continue reading at the next divider. thank you for understanding! there is NO plot development in the smut, i'll reiterate that at the end where i put the summary in badlands, i restructured to make sure none of it was in it.

SMUT WARNINGS: unprotected sex, dazai cries </3 poor baby, sub!dazai, as always pussy drunk!dazai, bit of overstim on dazai's part too, jfhsuhdfsu i will say it starts on the bathroom floor so that might be a bit gross to some of you but dazai hardly even uses his apartment anyway so trust it's clean. bear with me. it just flowed from there i had to go with it. the story writes itself, i'm only the scribe. LOL let me know if i missed anything, i might have

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

Dazai is hardly listening to the conversation at hand. They’ve been going back and forth for thirty minutes about inconsequential matters. Tolstoy is getting increasingly heated as he goes tit-for-tat with Nabokov, evidently the tripartite alliance between the Russian mafias is not quite enough to quell all of the bad blood that’s simmered between them, but something about the situation isn’t sitting right to Dazai. He can feel it in his gut, swirling in the depths of his chest—something is wrong but he doesn’t know what.

Mishima looks equally put out, gaze trained on Tolstoy and Nabokov’s conversation, occasionally looking back at his executives. Cao seems bored, head tilted back against the red cushions of the round booth as he smokes a cigarette; in all regards, he seems relaxed, but Dazai notices the way the fingers of his free hand are tense on the table, as if he’s bracing himself for something.

Something isn’t right.

Dostoevsky is cunning. Intelligent. He’s been lethally sharp in every universe that the other Dazais have encountered him in. He wouldn’t send Tolstoy and Nabokov into this meeting with them at each other’s throats like this without an ulterior reason. Dazai is missing something critical; he knows it’s not something as simple as wanting to give off the appearance of a divided front as means to get Dazai and Mishima to lower their guard. Nothing is that easy. There’s some ulterior motive that Dazai has to figure out.

Cao’s presence. Tolstoy and Nabokov’s blatant hostility toward one another. Mishima’s words from earlier, warning him that something seems to be brewing, that Tolstoy and Nabokov had been on edge since he arrived at the event hall. Dazai’s head hurts, and he can’t focus, not when you’re in the other room without him.

Already, he feels as if he’s been separated from you for too long, he’d been hoping this meeting was only going to last thirty minutes at most, and it’s been thirty minutes already and hardly any progress has been made. If Dazai didn’t know any better, he’d think that…

He’d think that Tolstoy and Nabokov were stalling.

At once, Dazai starts catching onto the things that he missed. The way Nabokov keeps glancing up at the clock on the wall above Cao. The way Tolstoy’s gaze keeps flickering to his phone. The way Cao’s attention seems to be elsewhere. 

Cao Xueqin. A Dream of Red Mansions. A scrying ability.

His heartbeat slows and Dazai blinks. Once. Twice. Blood roars in his ears as his gaze twists down to where his phone is laying on the table in front of him, on its face. Tachihara should have texted him to let him know that he got to you. Him or Chuuya. He usually reports to Chuuya anyway, so Dazai figured that Chuuya would’ve gotten the confirmation. He turns his head to the side to look at the executive from the corner of his eye, trying to keep his breath as slow and steady and natural as possible when he realizes that Chuuya is frowning with furrowed brows, looking at his phone. Unsure.

Dazia reaches for his own phone, fingers deceptively steady despite the way his insides are curdling with a sudden jolt of anxiety. His eyes zero in on the top right corner of his phone. No signal. Dazai has been to this event hall countless times in this life and dozens of others—there’s always service throughout the building. 

Unless it’s being jammed, that is.

Dazai’s blood runs cold, gaze dragging from his phone to the door that leads to the hallway connecting to the event hall where you are. He feels as if he’s been doused with icy water and lit on fire all at once. For a second, he doesn’t move—he’s not sure if it’s anxiety or fear, or both, but he knows it’s because you’re out there and Dostoevsky is plotting something while trying to keep him out of the picture in this meeting. 

He should have known better. Mishima had assumed that Dostoevsky wasn’t in the building—he had his three best scouts prowling the whole building trying to place the real leader of the tripartite but had failed. Nabokov had apparently told him that Dostoevsky had to stay back to handle residual business in Russia, a blatant lie, one that has had Mishima on edge all night.

The one with the overcoat. The clown.

Dazai stills as he remembers the white haired man who hung around Dostoevsky in some of the other universes. Not all of the other Dazais encountered him—in fact, Dazai thinks there were only half a dozen other universes where he met the man, he can hardly remember his name, but when he did…

Spatial linking. Of course Mishima’s men hadn’t been able to hunt down Dostoevsky. Dostoevsky would’ve predicted that the Sun and Steel would seek out the mastermind with their scouts. He used the clown to enter the building without anyone knowing after the scouts finished their hunt.

Dazai had missed a critical piece on the board.

Dazai rises to his feet abruptly, mind numb, eyes distant, and lips parted to speak but no words escape them. Tolstoy and Nabokov exchange a sharp, pointed look, pausing in their hostilities, and Dazai knows. He knows.

Dostoevsky is going after you. 

He hears Chuuya and Kouyou calling after him but it sounds like a distant buzz. His throat feels clogged, his heartbeat is erratic and uncontrollable, his ears are ringing. His surroundings are blurry, a part of him doesn’t even know where he is: the event hall, your apartment, in the cafe below the Armed Detective Agency, it’s all blurring together.

This is it.

His vision swims and his head spins. The hallway seems impossibly long, much longer than it was to walk to the room. He can hear Chuuya spitting curses, scrambling out of the room, and he’s sure that his other executives and the other mafiosos aren’t far behind, but Dazai’s mind is on a single track. He doesn’t know how fast he’s moving—fast enough that Chuuya is chasing after him but can’t catch him. Something is heavy and cool in his hand—his gun—numb fingers moving to click the safety off.

This is it.

He might enter that hall and find you dead, slumped over the bar he’d last seen you sitting at, blood splattered across your face. Limp, cold. Just like you were on your bedroom floor. In the booth at the cafe. He’s pulling you from the water. He’s screaming for Yosano when he’s with the Agency. He’s screaming for Mori when he’s with the Mafia. Sometimes he’s alone, and he has no one to call for help, so all he can do is hold you and cry. 

It’s his fault. He knew this would happen from the beginning. He knew that being with you would lead you to the same fate that you’ve met in every other universe because of him. He knew that being with you would be your death sentence, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

His vision swims again, the red and gold patterns on the walls of the event hall are indistinct blobs, he feels someone try to grab his wrist—Chuuya, probably—but Dazai rips himself free and pushes himself into the event hall.

He ignores the eyes on him and the way people all instinctively move away from the sight of him with his gun out, he’s sure he must look deranged but he’s hardly even keeping himself grounded to this reality. Pages pile around him, every single one has variations of the same scene that’s haunted him for almost eight years written on it; one is being written before his eyes, he can see the words appearing on the blank sheet. He needs to find you before it’s complete. He has to stop it.

His eyes cut across the room, toward the bar he’d last seen you at, and you’re there. You’re there. It’s almost enough to make him scramble to put his gun away, cover up his steep spiral of paranoia even if you are looking right in his direction and see the gun in his hand. He can hardly come to terms with the consequences of this, how you’re seeing him right now, because his gaze tunnels right in on the person sitting next to you and his world comes to a halt. 

He lifts the gun. He ignores as people shriek and scramble to the edges of the room. He ignores the look on your face as he moves closer to where you’re sitting with Fyodor Dostoevsky. He ignores the way Chuuya and Kouyou and Piano Man have all skid to a stop somewhere behind him, trying to figure out what to do. Dostoevsky’s hand is mere inches away from brushing against your body, it would only take the slightest movement and you would be dead. It would be a game of who’s faster: Dazai’s trigger finger or Dostoevsky’s ability. Dazai’s always been quick to pull the trigger but now, faced with your life on the line, when he should be at his best because of what’s at risk, he finds himself scared and unsteady. 

He can’t lose you. He can’t watch it happen.

He paces toward you slowly, steadily, he swears each step he takes echoes across the suddenly silent event hall. He doesn’t stop until the muzzle of his gun is pressed against the back of Dostoevsky’s head.

“Stand up.” Dazai’s voice is deceptively cold and steady for the rage and fear that’s clawing at his chest, threatening to take control.

Dostoevsky turns his head to the side to look at Dazai, faint amusement in his eyes. “Are you sure you really want to do this here, Dazai?” 

The mocking lilt his voice takes is almost enough alone for Dazai to pull the trigger. And if that wasn’t, the way Dostoevsky smiles at Dazai like he’s won is certainly enough to push him over the edge.

Before he can, he feels Chuuya grab his bicep hard. 

“You can’t do this here,” he hisses quietly. “If you kill him now on neutral territory, we’ll have all of the mafias in the Eastern Hemisphere coming after you and the government on your ass. You can’t do this here and you can’t do it in public.”

Dazai doesn’t care. He doesn’t care how many mafias come after him for killing on neutral territory when invited as a guest. He doesn’t care that the government will come after him for such a blatant murder. All he cares about is getting Dostoevsky away from you.

“Chuuya is right,” Kouyou murmurs, low enough for only Dazai to overhear. “We can cover this up as is. If you pull the trigger, there’s no hiding what happened here. You know better than this, boy. You won’t be the only person this affects if you do this. Think of her. She will be implicated for coming here with you. Lower the gun and let us handle sweeping this under the rug.”

Dazai can’t even bring himself to look at you. He’s scared of what he might find. But he doesn’t even consider lowering the gun, not until Dostoevsky raises his hands and slips off the bar stool to step away from you. Even when he does, Dazai keeps it trained on him, still tempted to blow his head right off his shoulders.

“I meant no harm,” Dostoevsky says smoothly. “I was intrigued, wanted to know the girl who’s managed to capture your interest. I must say, I see the appeal. Beautiful and intelligent, you have quite the eye, Dazai.”

Dazai’s lips stretch into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s not kind, and it’s mildly feral, and Dazai’s pretty sure he must look entirely deranged from the way Dostoevsky’s eyes widen in a mixture of surprise and entertainment, just enough to be noticeable.

“If you ever go near her again, I’ll put a bullet through your fucking skull, Dostoevsky.”

He should do it now. He should. Fuck Chuuya and Kouyou’s warnings, he should put a bullet in his head and be done with it, move onto handling Christie so that both of the major threats to your life are gone. But he can’t. If he takes this opportunity now, if he kills Dostoevsky so blatantly on neutral territory, the Pale Flame and Three Deaths will come at him in full force, and Dazai is sure the Red Chamber won’t be far behind them with Cao’s recent interest in expanding his business into Japan. And you’ll be caught in the crossfire of all of it, Dazai has ensured that by bringing you here. Dostoevsky must have accounted for all of this. He knew that Dazai would be put in a situation where either way, whether he kills him or lets him go, he’d be throwing himself onto a blade. 

Is that it? Killing you wasn’t the goal, was it? Exposing Dazai was. Forcing him into this impossible decision.

Did he really just fall into Dostoevsky’s hands so easily? Even with all of the forewarning the other universes have given him?

It’s you. You always make him reckless, his mind is never as sharp whenever you’re involved, muddled with thoughts of you, plagued with spirals of paranoia and anxiety that make him double guess himself. It’s like this in every universe—he becomes stupid, he becomes rash, he becomes careless. It’s you.

You.

Suddenly very hyper aware of your eyes on him, Dazai lowers his gun, gaze turning in your direction. Dostoevsky lets out one last snide comment, something toward you, telling you ‘don’t you see’ but Dazai doesn’t even process it, heart in his throat as he looks at you. He doesn’t know what he expects—fear, betrayal, even anger. He’s not prepared for the emptiness. He can’t read a single emotion on your face, your eyes eerily void of any feeling as you stare at him. 

He says your name quietly. His voice cracks. He should be embarrassed, so many people watching the scene play out, so many of his enemies and allies and subordinates, and he’s staring at you like a lost child with an unsteady voice, but he can’t bring himself to care. The fingers of his free hand are trembling, and the ones wrapped around the grip of his gun are so wound so tight that his knuckles are white. 

You’ve never looked at him like this before. Not in any universe. 

He thinks he might throw up. 

You’ve been mad at him before, scowling at him whenever he distracts you from your work and snarling whenever he makes messes that he never cleans up, but your eyes always stay soft in spite of the venom you spit. He’s seen betrayal on your face a few times before, screaming at him through tears when he got a bit too close to a successful attempt, cursing at him for trying to leave you, but you hold him so gently that it makes up for the harsh words. You’ve been scared of him once, when he lashed out so badly during one of his slumps that he nearly hurt you, but even then, you were more concerned for him then you were scared for yourself, speaking to him softly to settle him down.

He’s never seen this. He wants it to go away. Desperately.

“I’d like to leave,” you finally say after a few moments of silence, and your voice is so vacant of emotion that it leaves him feeling even more sick.

Dazai nods, because he can’t bring himself to speak. 

He holds his hand out for you, waiting for you to take it.

You don’t.

You haven’t spoken a word since the event hall, and Dazai doesn’t know what to do. He used to find peace in silence—for years, he’d become accustomed to it, isolating himself from everyone around him, keeping everyone at arm’s length. The most he ever spoke was a few sentences to give out orders to his executives; his voice had become hoarse and raspy over the years of self-imposed isolation, unused to being utilized. But the past few months with you have utterly obliterated any semblance of comfort Dazai had found in solidarity. 

It’s become entirely intolerable, the silence is making him sick with anxiety; he has hundreds of lifetimes worth of memories with you and he can’t even vaguely predict what to expect from you right now. You’ve been tense and cold since leaving the event hall. Dazai tried to open up a conversation in the car once but found himself promptly ignored. Chuuya tried to say something to you but only received the same cold shoulder. Even Albatross tried to lighten the mood when the four of you got in the car, but all you did was stare out the window with your back to Dazai. 

Now, you’re back up in his penthouse with him. You haven’t sat down. You’ve hardly budged from where you’re standing near the elevator—Dazai wonders if you’re scared of him now, if you want to be as close as possible to the only exit in fear of him lashing out at you. The thought makes him even more nauseous.

He doesn’t even know what to do with himself. He doesn’t want to sit down, he’s uncomfortable standing in the living room, waiting for you to say something, and he can’t bring himself to try to break the silence because if there’s one thing he learned very swiftly, it’s that he can’t handle being ignored by you. He’d prefer anger and hate to the stonewall iciness you’re giving him.

He can’t even fathom what you might be thinking right now. You’re not looking at him. You’re staring at the window that looks over the city, he can see the bright flashing lights from Cosmo World flickering faintly in your eyes. It’s so quiet that he can hear the distant honking of horns, police sirens coming from the streets below. 

He just wants you to say something, do something. Yell at him. Scream at him. Hit him or punch him. Anything is better than this. 

It feels like an eternity before you finally move away from the elevator. You still don’t speak, but Dazai watches raptly as you make your way into the kitchen. You fling open the cabinets, searching for something, and Dazai’s lips part to ask what you’re looking for but he decides against it. You stop with your jerky movements when you catch sight of the numerous bottles of sake Dazai has stored in his cabinets—room temperature, because Dazai can’t stand cold drinks, they make his teeth hurt. He watches you struggle to uncap it and his body itches to move toward you to help but he knows it won’t do any good. It’ll probably just piss you off more.

When you get the cap off, you’re immediately bringing it to your lips. One. Two. Three. Four large gulps before you put the bottle back down on the counter and turn to look at him. The emptiness in your eyes is gone, replaced by something caught between hurt and anger and betrayal. It makes his heart sink, but he thinks it’s preferable to the emptiness.

“You lied to me,” you finally rasp out, shaking your head as you pace behind the counter. There’s a whole length of a room separating the two of you and Dazai longs for your touch but he forces himself to stuff his hands in his pockets and keep still. “You lied to me, Dazai.”

“Osamu,” he corrects quietly without thinking, not liking the switch up. He’d finally gotten you to call him by his given name earlier in the night, he doesn’t want to lose it so quickly.

For the briefest of seconds, the hurt and betrayal in your eyes disappears and only fire rages in them. “Dazai,” you spit out pointedly. 

Dazai almost draws back, not having expected that. In all of the other universes, you’ve always been gentle with him even when you’re livid. You speak his name softly, even with a tight jaw and fisted hands—his given name, you’ve never used his surname against him like this before. Probably because most of the major fights he had with you in those other lives, it was months into the relationship; it’s only been a few weeks in this life so of course-

Dazai realizes, a bit dizzy, that he’s about to lose you.

You found out too soon. You found out through Dostoevsky, through Dazai's own loss of control. You found out in the worst possible way and you found out too soon.

Dazai is about to lose you.

“Okay,” he murmurs, not wanting to test your temper anymore, giving in as a means to try to soothe your anger, regardless of how much it might wound him because being wounded is nothing compared to losing you. “Dazai.”

His compliance seems to do nothing to quell your anger from the way you just scoff and shake your head again, looking away from him. You stare out over the city, dozens of emotions cloud your expression but Dazai still can’t predict what you might do next. He feels out of his depth, in murky waters with an anchor tied to his ankle.

“I knew it, you know?” you finally say quietly. “I knew it from the beginning, honestly, but I kept making excuses for you. I mean, the guns. The secrecy. You weren’t really subtle about it. Did you think I was stupid, or something?” 

“Never,” Dazai says honestly, without hesitation. He sees your gaze flicker down to the ground at his words, but you don’t make any move to speak again so he takes the opportunity to, in hopes that you’ll finally listen. “You’re the smartest woman I know. I-”

You interrupt him with a sharp laugh, it’s loud and almost cruel, and Dazai turns in on himself at the sound of it. He feels small and unsteady, like a child who’s being scolded by a parent. When you look at him again, your eyes are wide and wild, half-crazed in sheer disbelief. You don’t believe him. Of course, you don’t. It’s plainly displayed on your face. And why would you anyway? He’s given you every reason not to. 

“If you think I’m so smart, why didn’t you think I would figure it out?”

He tries to say that he knew you would. That he’s been living in fear for weeks that you’d finally see him for what he is but when he opens his mouth to say it, no words leave him. Like he’s frozen in fear, ice crawling through his veins, stones weighing on his tongue; he can’t respond, and he knows that he’s only condemning himself more. He tries to force something out but he can’t even make the barest hint of a sound. The mindkiller. He’s never responded well to fear, much less when you’re involved. 

You click your tongue, as if to solidify that his silence proves your point, or maybe you know what he can't bring himself to say and you just don't believe him. His stomach churns again, and dread spreads through chest when you say: “If I’m so smart, and I was going to figure it out anyway, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“You would have left.” Dazai is finally able to speak, but he speaks the wrong answer, clearly, from the way you let out another humorless, breathless laugh, eyes wide in disbelief. You look at him like he’s the most audacious man in the entire world. Maybe he is.

“Yeah, I would have,” you agree and Dazai flinches. “Without hesitation, without even looking back. And now, I can’t because you made me fall in love with you without even warning me about what I was getting myself into.”

Dazai’s heart should be leaping through the roof at your confession, but if anything, he feels even worse. His throat feels clogged and his chest feels so heavy. You’ve never regretted falling in love with him before. Not in any lifetime.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, because he doesn’t know what else to say. The words are still foreign on his tongue, he doesn’t think he’s ever apologized to someone in this life before the last twenty-four hours.

“No, you’re not,” you say bitterly, looking away. “Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to care so much about you that when you finally tell me who you are and what you do, I won’t be able to leave.”

Dazai stares at you, lost. He remembers how just the other day he was finding comfort in the way you could read him so easily, knowing he didn’t have to speak for you to know what he needed at the moment. He thinks he hates it now, because you’re finally reading deeper into his soul and seeing him for the sick, twisted monster he really is. Just like he feared from day one. Manipulative. Selfish. Undeserving. His fingers tremble in his pockets, nails biting into his palm so deep that he can feel blood trickling down his skin, but not even the stinging pain can distract him from the numbness spreading through him. 

“I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what?” you interrupt him. “You didn’t think I’d be upset? You didn’t think I’d be angry? Or maybe you didn’t think it would happen this soon? Is that it, Dazai? You thought you’d have more time to win me over in hopes that I’d take the news in stride. News flash, Dazai, no amount of time or charm would have made me accept this easily. Accept you easily. How could I ever accept any of this?”

Nausea rises to his throat so suddenly that he almost gags. He feels dizzy, taking a step back so that his back is against the wall, keeping him steady. Your last words echo through his head over and over again, he can’t escape them. The one person who’s always accepted him in every lifetime, the only person he was ever able to find a home in—how could I ever accept you? 

His cheeks feel wet, his eyes are wide as he stares at you. He doesn’t know how to respond to that. He doesn’t even think he could if he knew how to respond to that. His lungs are burning and his throat feels so swollen that even just the thought of trying to speak is painful. 

You let out a sharp breath, caught between a hysterical laugh and a sob as you press your hands to either side of your neck and pace across the kitchen. “What am I supposed to do, Dazai?” you ask, voice hoarse. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

He thinks it might be a rhetorical question, but he still forces out: “Don’t leave me.”

You scoff again, louder and harsher this time. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as if to futilely minimize the blow. “I wish leaving you was still an option for me.”

Oh. He’s going to throw up. 

He wants to blame it on the alcohol he drank earlier in the night. He wants to blame it on the stress of the past few weeks. He wants to blame it on anything but this, even though he knows damn well that this conversation is what triggered the bile that rises to his throat. He forces himself to move, nearly tripping over his feet to get to the bathroom because he doesn’t want you to see him vomiting up his guts.

He hardly makes it to the toilet, crashing to his knees and clutching at the seat as he dry heaves. Nothing comes up—he hasn’t eaten enough the past few days to have anything solid in him, too busy with preparations—but he can’t stop gagging, eyes stinging with tears and throat burning. He doesn’t know how long he stays crumpled at the toilet, losing track of time entirely, a part of him just wants to stay there forever so he doesn’t have to go back out and face you. 

Evidently, he doesn’t have to go back out and face you because you come to him. 

He’s gagging again when he feels your hand brush his back, hesitantly at first and then firmly. Your touch is warm, and Dazai thinks he must look pathetic as he turns his head to the side to look at you. Your expression isn’t as harsh now, your eyes are still conflicted but your face is softer. After a moment, you take a seat on the floor next to him—you don’t say anything, but you let out a soft puff of air as you slip your arm around his shoulders once he stops heaving. 

He crumbles into your chest, body collapsing against yours. You wrap your arms around him, and at once, the numbness starts to fade away. His fingers clutch at your dress desperately, afraid that you’re going to disappear, but you only hold him tighter. You bury your face in his hair, forehead pressed to the top of his head.

“You’re so unfair, Osamu.” Your voice cracks, you’ve lost all of your fire, but Dazai finds no solace in it.

“I know,” he croaks out, throat scratchy and voice wavering. “I know.”

And then words are spilling from his lips before he can stop them, jumbled and hardly intelligible and he’s not even sure that you’re understanding what he’s saying but he can’t stop himself: “I tried. I tried to stay away, I tried so hard, you don’t understand. I knew it would turn out like this, I knew I would ruin you so I tried to stay away, but I’m selfish. I’m so selfish, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I knew better, I’m going to-you’re going to-”

The panic is returning, the words he wants to say but can’t push out are too damning: I’m going to get you killed. You’re going to die because of me. Dazai is breathing but the air isn’t getting to his lungs, his chest burns, and now even with your arms around him, the numbness is returning. It’s rapid now, spreading from his chest to his arms, down his abdomen to his legs; it’s going to consume him entirely, he can feel it, he can-

Oh.

Your lips press to his. Tilting his head back to angle his face up toward you, you lean down and press your lips against his, swallowing his words, his air, his panic. One of your hands cup his cheek while the other cradles the back of his head, Dazai can hardly kiss you back, his lips feel cold and prickly, but his eyes flutter shut as your lips move slowly and carefully against his.

Not for the first time, he thinks that he doesn’t deserve this. Especially not now. He tastes something wet and salty against his lips—he doesn’t know if you’re the one crying, or if he is, and he doesn’t want to know, so he forces himself to move. His arm feels heavy and clunky, and his fingers feel stiff, but he’s able to bring them up to your face, palms cupping your cheeks as the tips of his fingers tangle into your hair. He kisses you until his lungs are screaming for air, and even as he starts to feel lightheaded, he kisses you still, because your lips are the only thing able to push away the numbness overwhelming him. 

When you break away from him, you keep your foreheads pressed together, nose nudging against his. You share the same thin sliver of air and Dazai feels dizzy, he wants to kiss you again but he doesn’t think he’s capable of moving yet, so he only stays crumbled in your arms, waiting for you to grace him with your lips again. 

“I wish I still had the chance to be a better man,” Dazai says hoarsely, honestly, gaze searching yours desperately. “I would be. For you.”

Please believe me, he thinks to himself helplessly, because it’s the truth. He would try to be. For your sake. He might fail, he might be too far gone, his soul corrupted beyond salvation and his blood black beyond purification, but he would try. He would try so hard for you. But he can’t, not in this lifetime, not without risking everything he’s strove to protect since coming in contact with the Book. He has to stay the criminal, the monster, the demon so that you and Odasaku can live out your lives here. Until Dostoevsky, Christie, and any other person that could turn out to be a threat to either of you are killed, Dazai has to keep playing this role. He has to. 

You don’t respond. Dazai thinks it’s because you don’t believe him and it makes him feel sick again. His lips part to repeat himself but you only press yours against his, as if to silence him. 

You don’t believe him, the kiss confirms it, and his heart sinks but he can’t even bring himself to protest, to insist that it’s true. Instead, he decides if he can’t prove it through his words, he’ll prove it through his actions. Even though his limbs still feel leaden and clumsy, he forces himself into a better position, sitting up a bit more and bringing both of his hands up to cup your cheeks. He tilts your head back, leaning into you and slowly pressing you back against the floor and distantly Dazai recognizes that this is not the place for this but the thought is only fleeting, he’s too lost in the feeling of your lips against his and your body pressed to him.

And you let him ease you back against the floor. You let him tilt your head back and when his tongue darts out to swipe against your bottom lip, you part your lips for him. He doesn’t have to knock your knees apart, because you spread them just enough for him to slot his hips between them to keep your bodies flush. He wonders if you can feel how clunky his movements are—his fingers still feel heavy against your face and he can hardly hold himself up above you. He hopes he’s not crushing you with his weight, he might be, but you don’t seem to care. 

He pulls back to ask if you’re okay with this but you chase his lips and he lets out a soft, muffled noise when you tug gently at his bottom lip and bring your free hand up to cup the back of his head, fingers tangling with his hair, pulling him back down to you. You drag your lips from his to slide them down his neck to the edge of his bandages. He twitches a bit at the feeling, wondering if you’re going to ask to take them off, but instead, you just trail your lips back upward, nipping at his jaw, and he shudders.

And then he finally hesitates, pulling away and not letting you chase after this time. He weighs his options in his head anxiously. He feels like he should do something, that he owes something—a lowering of a mask, a show of vulnerability, you’re entitled to at least that much after everything he’s done. Aren't you?

You give him a curious look and he tries to respond—he does, his lips part for him to speak but nothing leaves them. He swallows thickly, eyes fluttering shut as he braces himself before trying again, bringing one of his hands to yours and wrapping his fingers around it gently, lifting it from his chest to the bandages covering the left side of his face.

“Take them off,” he tells you, voice hoarse and shakier than he would have liked.

Your eyes widen, and he shudders a bit when your fingers smooth against the bandages, uncertain. “Are you sure?” you ask him softly, bringing your other hand to his opposite cheek, cupping his face in your hands again, eyes searching to make sure he means it.

Is he sure? Dazai doesn’t know. He can’t speak again as he stares down at you; a part of him is nervous, and he doesn’t even understand why. You already know who he is, what he is, but a part of him still fears that once you actually see him, something will change. And it’s ridiculous, so many other universes you’ve seen him without his bandages and you’ve never made him feel uncomfortable about it. But you’ve also never used his surname against him during an argument in the other universes, you’ve never regretted loving him, and you’ve certainly never wished you could leave him. 

So, yeah, he thinks the anxiety of you removing his bandages and then seeing him in a different light might be more of a possibility in this universe than any other one. His body is more covered in scars than not, and he knows it’s not attractive; he thinks if he sees your expression shift in a negative way when the bandages come off, it might shatter him entirely.

Just the face bandages then, he bargains with himself, swallowing thickly as he forces himself to nod. You sit up from where you’re still laying back against the tiles, propping yourself on your knees to shift closer to him. 

Dazai thinks his heart might be in his throat when he feels your fingers unclip the clasp holding the bandages together around the left side of his face, eyes fluttering shut as you slowly unwind them from around his head. He isn’t sure why he’s so nervous for this part—there are no scars on his face, but he still feels distinctly vulnerable, like he’s giving you a window into himself that might reveal more than he means to. He can barely breathe as he feels the last of the bandages fall to the floor, he can hear you push them to the side. 

Still, he keeps his eyes shut, counting each second that passes. He’s anxious, can’t even bring himself to look at you until you cup his cheeks again. 

“Look at me,” you say quietly.

Dazai does as you ask, he always does. He doesn’t know what he expects when he opens his eyes to meet your gaze; he prepares himself for the worst, for a twisted expression or thinly veiled pity, but he finds none of it. Rather, your eyes are soft and fond, tracing over his face, looking between each of his. He can feel the pads of your fingers gently brushing over his cheekbones, tracing absent patterns.

“You’re so handsome, Osamu,” you whisper, one of your hands sliding behind his head, intertwining with his hair. “Why do you wear them?” 

Dazai doesn’t know how to answer that. His throat feels swollen at your words, eyes a bit misty and fingers trembling against your thighs. Instead, he breathes out, “Kiss me.”

And you do. 

God, when you kiss him again, it’s so intense that it has his head spinning. He doesn’t know how long he sits there kissing you, back against the cabinets with you half in his lap. It could be a few seconds, or a few minutes, or a few hours—he has no concept of time whenever his lips are against yours. It’s only when you press your hand against his shoulder, murmuring for him to get up, that he finally pulls himself away from you.

Dazai forces himself to push up to his feet—it’s much more difficult than he thought it would be, nearly tripping over his own feet, but you follow him up to your feet, steadying him when he almost tumbles over. You bring your hand up to rest against his cheek, fingers gently toying with the edges of his hair. He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before he forces himself to look you in the eye. 

“You’re so frustrating,” you say softly, but all of the fire is gone, replaced by that same soft look you’ve directed toward him—not him—hundreds of times before. “You are so frustrating, Osamu.”

His throat feels tight again, the sound of his name on your lips causing a wave of warmth to spread through him, the numbness slowly subsiding.

“I know,” he whispers, swallowing thickly, and you sigh, gaze averting to the side for a moment before you look back at him. He still can’t fathom what you might be thinking and it scares him.

But then you kiss him again, your other hand coming up to his other cheek and his hands fly to your waist, holding you close. You walk him backward, out of the bathroom and into the hallway. His back hits the wall and you press your body close to his, and this time it’s you whose tongue is darting out to brush his bottom lip, urging him to part his lips for you. He does, and he thinks he might be in heaven when he feels your tongue dip into his mouth, sliding against his tongue. His eyes flutter shut, rolling back just a bit when you trace the back of his teeth with your tongue before sucking gently on his bottom lip.

Your hands slide down from his face to his chest, over his jacket, down to his waist. Your fingers hook in his belt loops and Dazai groans as your lips ghost from his down to his jaw, breath shaky as trail slow, wet kisses to the sensitive spot behind his ear. He can hardly do anything but follow along as you guide him from where he’s been backed against the wall into his bedroom, dazed and entirely consumed by your touch. His head already feels a bit fuzzy, breath hitching as your teeth graze his pulse point, kissing down to the edge of his bandages and then across his throat.

He barely even knows where he is until he feels the back of his knees hit his bed and he topples backward until he’s laying flat on it. His chest is heaving, head dizzy and breath shaky as you straddle his waist. You don’t kiss him again and Dazai wants to drag you down for another but he can’t even bring himself to move. His body refuses to cooperate, nervous that he’s going to make the wrong move.

“Do you want this?” you finally ask after a moment, voice raspy as one of your hands squeeze his gently, as if to get his attention. 

Dazai’s brows furrow a bit, lips parting to respond but for a second, no words leave them. You wait with the patience of a saint as Dazai tries to process what you’re asking and respond to it. After what feels like an eternity, he nods once. Of course, he wants it. You search his eyes as if to make sure he’s not just agreeing to agree, and once you’re satisfied, you continue you with: 

“And do you trust me?” you ask softly, your gaze gentle as it searches his face for the next answer.

Dazai doesn’t hesitate this time, and he speaks as he breathes out, “With everything.”

He can’t tell what you’re thinking, but your expression is still soft and your touch is still gentle as you run your thumb over his knuckles. Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the gentleness you show him. You lift your hand to cup his cheek and he leans into your touch, throat spasming beneath his bandages as he waits for you to say something. 

“Let me take the lead then,” you say quietly, his eyes widen a bit at your words. “I want to try something.”

He watches you carefully for a moment, guarded and studying you. He thinks this might be another first, and the thought alone makes him feel a bit giddy because he can’t recall any other life where you’ve ever been the one to take the lead like this, especially the first time the two of you sleep together. You look a bit anxious the longer he goes without responding, so he nods and says, “Okay.”

He’s pliant beneath your touch as you lean down to press your lips against his; he lets out a soft, muffled noise when he feels your hips shift, unintentionally grinding down a bit on his straining cock. He’s more hesitant this time in the way his lips move against yours, unsure of what to do with himself. His fingers twitch from where they're resting on the bed, itching to grab your hips but not wanting to make the wrong move.

This has happened every time one of you tries to take the next step, either he gets interrupted or he ends up getting cold feet because he’s scared of doing the wrong thing and making you uncomfortable. And it’s ridiculous because Dazai has so many memories, he should know at least vaguely what you like and what you don’t like but he thinks having the memories are a double-edged sword because he overwhelms himself if what ifs: what if he assumes you like something and you end up not liking it in this universe, what if he does something that you only liked after the two of you have been together for a while and you’re uncomfortable with him doing it because you’re not as comfortable with him. Maybe Dazai is just overthinking it all but how can he not when you’re involved. He wants everything to be perfect for you. 

“Is this okay?” you whisper, separating your lips from his just enough for him to answer your question. Your breath mingles with his and Dazai can hardly think straight; it’s hot, dizzying, there’s something so intimate about it that it makes his body fuzzy.

“Yeah,” he says, eyelashes fluttering as he looks up at you. “It’s okay.”

You kiss him again. His lips move against yours desperately, needy, he’d be embarrassed if you weren’t matching his energy, but you are. He can feel your fingers tugging at his hair, your hips grinding down against his. Every time you start to pull away, he lifts his head from where it’s laying flush against the pillows, chasing your lips. 

He needs you. His hands slide from your thighs to your waist, keeping your body pressed to his. He’s needed you since the day he came in contact with the Book and learned about you, since the day he met you at the club, maybe even since the day he was born even if he hadn’t known it at the time. He thinks his entire life has led to this, to the two of you being together; your souls have been entangled since the moment you were born and he isn’t sure how he ever thought a life without you was possible. 

“I need you,” he gasps against your lips, hips jerking up just a bit to try to alleviate the pressure building in his lower abdomen, desperate to reach down and unbutton his slacks, but wanting you to make the first move.

Whatever nerves that have made him get cold feet all of the other times the two of you have tried to take the next stop are long gone. You don’t give him any time to wonder if he’s doing the wrong thing—the fingers of one of your hands intertwining with his dark locks, just tight enough to make him hiss into your mouth, eyes rolling back at the pleasant sting. Your other hand slides across his chest, even through his dress shirt, your fingertips seem to scorch through to his skin, leaving his body tingling everywhere you touch.

“You have me,” you tell him, breathless, and Dazai can’t bite back the noise that slips from his lips, wanton and obscene, borderline pornographic—if he was any more coherent, he might be embarrassed but he can’t find it in him. Not when he’s finally getting what he’s wanted after all of this time. 

His hands fly down to his slacks, he fumbles with the button and zipper before yanking them down just enough to free his cock and he watches as you sit back on his thighs, eyes wide and lips parted as your gaze focuses in on his cock, watching as the leaking precum dribbles down his length, alongside the vein running along the underside of his cock. 

“Please,” he breathes out, fingers biting into your thighs as he bunches your dress up to your hips, another low moan spilling from his lips just at the thought of what’s about to happen, lashes fluttering.

You don’t even take off your panties, clearly driven by the same desperation that he is as you slide them to the side and position yourself above his cock and Dazai gnaws at his bottom lip when he feels the tip pressing against your entrance. He can feel how wet you are already, so drenched that your slick is dripping down the length of his cock. His hips stutter up instinctively, but instead of pushing inside, his cock slides between your folds and he whimpers, arm flying to cover the lower half of his face. You don’t let him, fingers wrapping around his wrist to pull his arm from his face and pin it to the mattress above him.

“Don’t hide yourself,” you say softly.

Dazai thinks there must be stars in his eyes as he looks up at you. You’re so beautiful, lips parted as you pant softly, an adoring expression on your face as you look down at him. He loves you. He loves you, god, he loves you more than he’s ever loved anything in his life; he thinks that nothing the other Dazais ever felt for any of the other yous could ever compare to how he feels for you.

When his tip starts to push into your tight hole, all he can let out is another loud, lewd noise; his head falls back against the pillows. His ears are ringing, but distantly, he can hear you gasp. His vision is blurry as he forces himself to look up at you but Dazai thinks you look otherworldly with your head tilted back as his cock starts to stretch you out, lips swollen and wet from the kisses you’d shared. He thinks he must look insane, pupils blown wide and eyes wild as he tries to focus on the sight of you. All of the clever wheels that usually turn within his mind are crumbling.

His fingertips leave crescents in your thighs as you sink down on his cock slowly—too slow, it leaves his head dizzy as your warmth slowly envelops his length. He’s imagined this so many times before. Dozens. Hundreds. He has so many memories of the feeling of your body flush to his, thighs over his shoulders as he fucks you deep and slow, swallowing your moans, but he thinks that nothing compares to this, the sight of you above him, watching your body tremble and face shift as his cock stretches you out. He barely refrains from letting out a string of strangled curses, barely able to hold his eyes open to watch you. 

You give yourself a moment to adjust, and when you do, you look down at Dazai. He thinks he must look a mess—chest heaving, breath erratic, eyes heavy and lidded and entirely glazed over—but he doesn’t care, not with the way your hand slides up his abdomen, fingers tracing patterns along the bandages covering his body. You look beautiful—you always look beautiful—but you look extra beautiful right now, and he thinks he could stare at you forever and never tire of it. 

Experimentally, you roll your hips—it’s still slow, agonizingly slow—and Dazai throws his head back, another obscene moan spilling from  his lips.

“Fuck,” he gasps, his fingers falling from your thighs to twist the sheets below him, knuckles white. “Feels so good. So good.”

You let out a hum that’s caught between a moan and agreement as you continue the slow rolls of your hips, hands sliding up and down his abdomen in a way that’s deceptively innocent and soothing compared to how his cock is dragging along your walls. His body shudders at the feeling of it, heat pooling in his abdomen so quickly that it has his whole body tensing as he tries to push it away. 

“You’re so perfect.” Words spill from his lips, more of a babble than anything else as you lean down to ghost your lips over his jaw, nibbling over the bandages covering his Adam’s apple. It bobs beneath your teeth as he lets out another shaky noise. “S’like you’re made for me. I’d do anything for you. Anything. You know that, right? Anything you want, it’s yours.”

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, clawing at the sheets and occasionally reaching for your thighs, and he doesn’t know what to do with his body, hips jerking up at an erratic pace, like he’s trying to meet your pace but his body simply can’t match the slow rolls of your hips, desperate for more. He doesn’t know how you’re so put together—maybe you’re not, he can see through a blurry vision how your lashes are fluttering with each roll of your hips, breath shaky, but you’re just not as far gone as he already is.

“Anything?” you murmur, and he can feel your lips curve up against his neck.

“Anything.” His breath hitches, fingers reaching for your hips as he rocks his up into you, a desperate attempt to get you to pick up the pace. “‘d give you the whole world, burn it for you, anything you want, I’d give it to you.”

His hands slide up from your thighs to your waist as you lean down to press your lips against his in a deceptively innocent kiss. He tries to chase your lips as you straighten up but you don’t let him, one of your hands curling around his throat—not choking him, but firm enough that it goes right to his cock, lips parting in a silent moan—while the other braces back on his thigh.

He thinks that nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of you picking up the pace. His breath hitches, he chokes over a moan, stars sparkle in his vision as the tip of his cock presses deep inside of you. You sigh out his name and Dazai thinks this might be the closest he ever gets to heaven: you on top of him, cock buried to the hilt in your cunt, the sight of your blissed out face above him as his head spins. 

“Oh, fuck,” Dazai cries out, back arching and hand flying to cover his face again but the hand you have on his thigh flies forward to snatch his wrist before he can, pinning it back above his head. Dazai’s eyes roll back, you’re leaning over him entirely now, leaning most of your weight on the hand that’s pinning his wrist but the new angle adds pressure onto how you’re squeezing his neck, paring his airways just enough to make his lungs burn. “More. Faster, fuck, I-ah-”

His voice falls off into another moan, head falling to the side to press his cheek against the pillow. He thinks drool is starting to pool at the corner of his lips but he doesn’t care, he can’t even think at this point, too lost in the lewd sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppiness of his cock fucking deep in your cunt, your soft moans and gasps, lost in the feeling of your tight walls clamping down on his cock, the warmth, the wetness, your fingers digging into his wrist and the sides of his neck. He wants to tell you that he needs more but the words are garbled, entirely unintelligible. 

He forces his eyes back open, feeling the tears spilling over his cheeks just from the intensity of it all, the intensity of you. You’re gentle with him even when your hand is wrapped around his throat and his cock is splitting you open—he can feel the soothing circles you rub with your thumb, he can see the way you’re searching his face to make sure he’s okay. Dazai is just so overwhelmed that he can’t stop the way his next moan breaks into a sob; acutely realizing just how deprived he’d been of any type of care or love before meeting you, and forcibly coming to terms with the fact that he is never going to be able to go without this again, without you again. He’d known it to some extent before this, the thought of losing you and the light you bring him has made his stomach churn violently but this…

He’s torn from his thoughts when you suddenly stop the rolls of your hips, halting the spreading heat in his lower abdomen desperately. The noise that escapes him is something caught between distress and betrayal, dark eyes wide as he looks up at you questioningly, but the expression on your face makes his breath catch. Your hand slides up from his throat to cup his cheek, your other hand releasing his wrist so that you can hold his face between your hands, thumbs wiping away the tears spilling over his cheeks.

Distantly, Dazai recognizes that he’s still choking over sobs and that’s probably why you’ve stopped and that only rips his chest apart more because of course, you’re still putting him above you—even when you’re mad, even when you’ve just fought, when he’s betrayed you in a way that should be unforgivable, you’re still kissing away his tears and putting aside your own needs to take care of him

He doesn’t deserve you. Not in any universe, but especially not in this one.

He thinks he could stay here for eternity. Fuck the rest of the world. Fuck the Port Mafia. Fuck his plan. He just wants to stay here with you, your lips brushing his, sharing the same sliver of air. He leans into your touch, groaning against your lips when he feels your walls spasm around him.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes out, unsure if you can even understand him. “You’re so-”

His words fall off into another moan, and he can’t control his hips as they thrust up sharply against yours, another string of incoherent curses escaping his hips as your breath catches and you straighten back up, head falling back as you gasp his name.

Your nails dig crescents into his upper thighs through his bandages as you brace yourself back against them. You move your hips again—faster, this time, harder, and Dazai thinks his head is in the clouds. He’s so deep inside of you that he can feel everything, jaw falling slack as heat spreads through his body too rapidly for him to get control over. He wants to throw a hand over his mouth to muffle the lewd, pitched moans spilling from his lips but he can’t drag his hands from where they’re clawing at your hips, desperately trying to help you meet him with each thrust.

“I-hah-shit, I’m gonna-fuck-”

He slurs out your name and several obscenities, trying to warn you that he’s going to cum when he feels his cock twitching inside of you and his abdomen tensing, but you only lean down to press a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips and Dazai is gone. He wants to watch you, he tries, but he can’t hold his eyes open, they’re half-rolled back as he chokes over moans of your name, hips stilling as he cums deep inside of you. His body twitches, expression twisted as he presses his head so hard into the pillow that he thinks he might permanently indent it. 

His head is spinning, lungs burning, sweat beading at his forehead and hair matted to his face—he thinks he’s never cum so hard in his entire life; all of the nights he spent alone, desperately trying to fuck his hand to the thought of you in attempts to mimic how you’ve made all the other Dazais feel, to give himself some semblance of the pleasure you’ve brought him in other lives to hold him over on particularly lonely nights, they’ve never felt like this.

You don’t stop, even as he squirms and lets out jumbled pleas beneath you, body shuddering at the overstimulation but you’re too lost in chasing your own high now. He spasms beneath you, nails digging into your thigh as you fuck his cum deeper inside of you, bouncing on his cock desperately. He doesn’t care that the sensitivity is pushing his body to the brink, letting you use him however you want if it means he gets to see you like this. 

Dazai’s head feels light, pins and needles pricking his body—he thinks he might pass out but he forces himself to hold on, enraptured by the sight of you on top of him with your eyes half-rolled back, lips parted and throat bared to him. Your tits are half-spilling out over the low-cut of your dress and Dazai thinks you’re fucking divine. The only holy thing in this godless world. He wants to spend the rest of his life worshiping you.

“I’m gonna-” you gasp, head falling backward as one final roll of your hips that has your clit grinding against his pelvic bone sends you spiraling over the edge. 

Dazai wants to sear the image of you behind his eyelids, watching as your nails drag against his thighs, drawing red lines even through the bandages, back arching, head tossed back—your body is trembling violently as you cum on his cock, expression twisted and entirely blissed out, sobbing over his name. He chokes and gasps at the feeling of your cunt tightening around his sensitive cock again, jaw tight and spots dancing in his vision as he’s so abruptly pushed over the edge a second time, the coil in his abdomen tightening and snapping all within the span of a few seconds.

He’s still reeling when he feels you slump forward onto his chest, burying your face in the crook of his neck, shivering in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He’s only half aware as he instinctively brings his hands up to rest on your hips, rubbing soft circles of your hip bones to try to soothe you. 

He shudders when you press a kiss to his neck right at the edge of his bandages, and then tilt your head up to press another on his jaw. One of your hands comes up to caress the back of his head, fingers carding through the dark locks in a way that has his eyes drooping shut. 

“We’re not done with this conversation,” you finally say after a few moments of silence, voice soft, breaking the silence. Dazai stiffens a bit, lips parting to respond but no words leave them. “... but let’s just lay like this for a while first, okay?”

He lets out a shaky breath, still not entirely convinced that he’s not going to lose you, so he lets his eyes flutter shut as he nods. He may as well bask in this for as long as he can, and if you notice the way his fingers dig just a little deeper into your skin after your words process, you don’t mention it. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “okay.”

Dazai wakes up the next morning and you’re nowhere to be seen. The bed is frighteningly cold next to him and his heart is instantly in his throat. He doesn’t waste a second before he’s sitting up in bed, looking around, eyes wild and heart racing. He doesn’t settle down, not until his eyes fall upon where you’re sitting curled up on the chair of the desk he never uses, eyes trained on the dark clouds outside the window, the beauty of the sunrise wilted by a morning storm.

“His intention was to make me leave you.” You’re not looking at him, but you must have heard him sit up. “Fyodor Dostoevsky. The things he told me, they were to make me leave you.”

Dazai doesn’t move an inch, throat swelling. He forces himself to ask, “What did he tell you?”

He isn’t sure if he wants to know.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say—Dazai thinks that it definitely does, but he bites back the questions that rise to his tongue because you’re clearly not about to budge on your answer. “Who is he?”

“A monster,” Dazai bites out, bitterness seeping into his tone as he leans back against the headboard, eyes still trained on where you’re curled on his chair, gaze distant. “You have to stay away from him.”

“Well, I didn’t intend on seeking him out,” you say it so dryly that Dazai nearly finds humor in it. Nearly. The smile that rises to his lips is mirthless at best. You turn to look at him, finally, and Dazai finds only cool indifference on your face; the fondness, the softness, the gentleness from last night are all gone. He wonders if you regret it, but he doesn’t let that thought linger, it’ll only make him sick. “... He doesn’t seem like the type to give up.”

“He never is,” Dazai murmurs, ignoring the brief, questioning look you direct toward him, mind drifting off to all of the Russian’s incessant attempts to take you from him in all of the other universes. “Did he tell you what his plan was?”

Dazai doubts it, but maybe there was something he said to you that shed some light to it.

“He didn’t have to,” you say quietly. “He wants Yokohama, for whatever reason—couldn’t figure that out, I think he’s looking for something—and clearly, he has to get through you to get it. He thinks the best way of getting through you is by taking me away from you first. That’s what I’d gathered from how he was talking at least, what he was saying about you, the way he was phrasing it. I’d put together enough on my own during the night to fill in the blanks. He told me things about what you’d done as… what you’d done as boss of the Port Mafia—things you’ve done to enemies… to allies. He told me that I’d see the real you as soon as you realize that the meeting he set up was a farce; that the mask you put up would crumble and I would see you for the demon that you are.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, jaw tight as he averts his gaze to the window—he’d played right into Dostoevsky’s hands. He can hardly bring himself to look at you; he wonders if you do see him differently now that the cloud from the night before has worn off, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Now’s not the time anyway, there are more pressing matters.

“... He’ll come after me again, won’t he?” you ask quietly. “Getting me to leave you willingly didn’t work. If he’s so set on me being the trigger to your downfall, then he’ll come after me again.”

He would. As he always has. Of course, Dostoevsky would try to get to him through you, he’s tried it in every universe, and Dazai hadn’t been careful enough. He hadn’t been smart enough. He’d known this was going to happen and was still arrogant enough to believe he could somehow prevent it. He was a fool, and he was a fool at the cost of your safety. He doesn’t know how to respond to you, he doesn’t want to confirm your suspicions, he doesn’t want to admit that this is all his fault, that he knew this would happen and was selfish enough to pursue you anyway.

“... I’m scared, Osamu,” you finally say quietly, and you suddenly look a lot smaller from where you’re sitting on his desk chair, hunched over with your knees tucked to your chest. “I’m really scared.”

Dazai’s heart claws up to his throat and he pushes himself out of bed, still dressed haphazardly in his suit from the night before. He makes his way over to you and kneels in front of you, hands curling around your ankles as he looks up at you.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he tells you, voice a bit more raspier than he intended for it to come across as. “I don’t care what I have to do to ensure it, how low I have to stoop. I will not let anything happen to you, do you understand?”

Your eyes meet his, and he can’t help but notice that doubt still riddles your gaze as you search his face, as if you want to believe him but can’t bring yourself to. A pit starts to grow in his stomach, wide and gaping as he realizes that this is all really about to happen, and one mistake on his part could lead you to the same fate you’ve met in so many other worlds because of him.

Finally, the doubt slowly clears as you let out a soft breath, nodding, and Dazai inhales sharply, laying his forehead against your shin as he lets his eyes slide shut.

He won’t let it happen. Not again. 

again there was NO plot development in the smut - you guys didn't miss out on anything, pinky swear. i restructured the scene to fit the only notable scene (bandage removal) into the part before the smut, so if that felt a little forced, that was why </3 it wasn't supposed to be there. i was struggling trying to figure out how to move it upward a bit. the only arguable "plot" development was dazai letting go of his control freakiness to let her take the lead

[magniloquent-raven]

Day 3: Missing Moments

a little something for @bucktommypositivityweek 💜 tommy POV after their first date + buck calling about meeting for coffee

**

Tommy's not moping. He doesn't mope. Especially not over a relationship that wasn't even a relationship yet. It was one date. Arguably less. Half a date with a guy he's hung out with—if he's counting very generously—a grand total of four times.

A blip, as far as relationships go. He has more history with that guy he used to trade semi-frequent blowjobs with who's saved in his phone as Nose Ring.

...Come to think of it, he should delete that guy's number. They haven't spoken in years. He's pretty sure the last text in their message history is—yup. Dick pic. From Nose Ring. They'd gone six months without contact, then he sent a picture of his penis and nothing else. Tommy couldn't find it in himself to be even vaguely interested, and there's been no communication since.

And that's really that's the problem, isn't it. His dating history is riddled with guys like that. Dead-end hookups and bad dates with people he didn't click with no matter how much he tried to force it. And people who just...didn't care enough. Then Evan...

Alright, he's moping a little bit. He's only human.

He's been laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Pretty much since he got home. It's not late enough that he's tired, really, but he's also exhausted. In a soul-deep sort of way.

It was nice. He had a nice time, sitting across from Evan, letting him stutter his way through all the usual first date talking points like he was reading them off a list in his head. It was cute, how seriously he took it, how he'd pause and smile and get that soft look in his eye when he was listening to Tommy talk.

It would have been so easy to be greedy and keep spending time basking in that warmth he seems to radiate. Evan was clearly willing to push himself way past his comfort zone, but. Tommy wasn't. Isn't. His stomach twists just thinking about it.

But maybe he's being selfish either way. He wants more than Evan can give him, so he's pulling away completely, retreating before he can get too deep into planning a future Evan isn't ready for.

He sighs, feeling around next to his pillow until his fingers close around his phone.

Maybe Evan will reach out again. Some day. Eventually. Once he's more at ease with himself. Or maybe Tommy already ruined what could have been before it even started. Probably safer to just assume the latter. Restrict himself to hoping they can still be friends after this.

He scrolls aimlessly through his contacts. There's quite a few numbers in there that he should delete. Names he's not sure he recognizes anymore. Ones he wishes he could forget.

For some godforsaken reason he still has Sam Westbrook in here. Just reading the name puts a pit in his stomach. He doesn't remember everything about the three horrible months they spent together, it's mostly just flashes. The taste of too much beer on his tongue, saturated and clumsy in his mouth. A sharp smile and a sharper suit, always pressed and starched and better-than-you.

Tommy was newly out and far too hard on himself about how difficult it was. Guys like Sam seemed to sniff that out, made his personal shame all about them. It didn't always work, but Sam was particularly good at it. He always left Tommy feeling gutted and guilty and far too willing to do whatever it took to make it up to him the next time they saw each other. It's not a relationship he likes to think about.

But it's a reminder that he did the right thing tonight.

And...

Maybe he'll call Evan. Not yet, not right away. Tommy needs time to square away his own messy feelings, but maybe in a couple weeks. Just to let Even know he's. Around. If he needs someone to talk to about all this.

They can be friends. He'll make it work.

He deletes Sam's number, and tosses his phone aside.

Two weeks.

—

It's only two days later when his phone rings, Evan Buckley written across his screen in big white letters. He stares at it through five long buzzes while his heartbeat pounds in his ears.

This...wasn't the plan. And to make matters worse, he's at work. He catches one of his coworkers side-eyeing him curiously, and that pretty much guarantees he'll have at least three people ask him what was up with the phone call before his shift it over.

Well. He should at least give them something to gossip about. A guy called me and I watched it go to voicemail isn't much of a story.

He swipes to answer, before he can make himself any more nervous.

"Hey."

"Tommy! Hey!" Evan's voice crackles a little through the phone with a surprised intake of breath, like he wasn't the one who called in the first place. The corner of Tommy's mouth twitches. "H-how's it going?"

Tommy spent four hours yesterday taking apart his neighbours' lawn mower because he'd convinced the man it was making a weird noise and he could fix it. There was nothing wrong with it, but he checked every inch anyways, and put it back together well-oiled and exactly as pristine as it was before. That morning he'd gone grocery shopping with a paper list and his phone at home so he'd stop obsessively combing through all his files trying to find things to delete.

So, he's having a very normal week, clearly.

"Good," he says instead of explaining any of that. "I'm actually at work right now, so—"

"Oh crap, I forgot you were working today, sorry. I—I can call back later if you're busy."

"No, it's okay. Slow day so far." He pauses. "One might even say qui—"

"Ah, don't jinx it!"

Tommy snickers. Apparently Eddie wasn't exaggerating. He's known a lot of superstitious people, but most of them didn't take it this seriously. Evan sounded less panicked about flying directly into an actual hurricane. "Right, the dreaded Q-Word."

"Did you hear about the power lines that fell on our engine?!"

"Yes." He'd seen the pictures too. Pretty much everyone had, the 133 were sending them around all day after they took that call.

"And then some guy stole it later that same day, y'know. It was a terrible shift."

He'd heard about that too, but not that it was the same station. Damn. "Alright, alright. No tempting fate."

"Well. Good. Too many things can go wrong with helicopters."

Tommy squints up at the rafters, feeling unbearably fond. Like he's full of something warm and syrupy and too big for his chest, like he's spilling sunlight between his ribs.

He should ask why Evan called. Polite check-in after their date ended so abruptly? Another storm he needs Tommy to fly into? Metaphorical or otherwise. Hopefully it won't involve stealing anything else. They got way too lucky the first time for Tommy to trust it working out again, and he kind of likes his job.

He slips his free hand into his pocket. "How are you doing, Evan?"

"Oh." He lets out a soft exhale that comes through as quiet static. "I, uh. Good, actually. B-better, um. Listen, are you free tomorrow?"

Tommy stops breathing, lungs seizing for a long moment before he very carefully reminds himself how to use them. "Yes."

"I wanted to. Talk. To you. Um. In person, preferably."

This really wasn't the plan.

But it's fine. It's more than fine. It's...

He'll just have to deal with wanting to kiss the living daylights out of someone who's off-limits, it's not like he's never had to do that before. If Evan needs something from him he's not about to say no, he just didn't expect it to happen so soon, if it happened at all.

"I, uh, would've just popped by your house unannounced, but I thought this might be more polite," he continues, a teasing lilt in his voice. Tommy purses his lips against the smile threatening to overtake his face. "Also, I don't know where you live."

"You could've asked Eddie."

"Oh, so you're saying I should have ambushed you then?"

"No, that's very rude. Who does that."

Evan's delighted laugh is bright and infectious, and has him grinning at his feet, sunlight spreading down to the tips of his fingers.

"So, coffee? Tomorrow?"

"Alright."

"Cool. Awesome. I'll text you the details?"

"Cool," he echoes, purposefully deadpan. "Awesome."

He can hear the smile in Evan's voice when he pretends to be offended by the mocking. It's there all through their goodbye too, and Tommy finds himself coiled up around his anticipation at the thought of seeing that smile again.

It's going to be a long 18 hours. But it's worth the wait.

[scarletwinterxx]

game boy - jeon wonwoo imagine

hiiiiiii ~ i know i'm not the only one kicking their feet whenever this man appears on the screen. I can't get him out of my mind (even if i try)😅😅hope you like it!

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"Since when are you into gaming?" the voice from behind you asked, you immediately put your phone down as your roommate take the seat across from you.

A knowing smirk on her face.

"Since I was a kid, I'll have you know I'm a pro at building houses in Sims" the lie slides out so easy you almost thought your roommate believes it

"Oh so not because you think that gamer dude is cute?"

It's not the first time she's seen you watching his live, sometimes she can hear it from your room behind the closed door or your phone sitting on the counter as you wash dishes.

Maybe you really are into gaming or a bigger maybe you might be into the dude who's gaming.

"Who? Him? I just scrolled past his live, totally random" you shrug your shoulders

"Mhm, so I didn't hear you squeal last night when he went live after going on a break for a month?"

"How did you know he was on a break?" you ask

"How did YOU know?" she asks back. She caught you there, when you don't say anything she just laughs. "It's okay to admit if you're crushing on him, I'd understand. He's all yours though"

"I don't have a crush on him"

"Mhm and I'm not failing Spanish"

"You know what I'll leave you here, you need to study and I need to go" you tell her while you gather your stuff on the table, "You're not actually mad right?"

You chuckle at her question, "You weren't wrong so I can't be mad. Anyways, bye"

It took a few seconds for her to process what you just said, by the time she did you're already out the library.

You walk out the campus premises, the weather's great so you decided to just walk. You put on you're earphones and enjoy the scenery, your feet on auto-pilot ready and set to take you to your destination.

When you got to the building, you let your self in and giving the building's doorman a wave on your way to the elevator. You punch the code on the keypad to let yourself in, the inside of the apartment a stark contrast from the bright sun outside. The black out curtains are drawn making the room dark like it isn't 4pm right now.

You take your shoes off and put your stuff down before getting your phone to see if Wonwoo is streaming and sure enough he was.

He's also a student in your university, he streams when his schedule lets him. Whenever you're alone you let his videos play in the background, kind of like a white noise for you.

You get some snacks from the kitchen, then walk to the window to let some light in before getting comfortable in the living room while you finish some of your pending works.

After a while you hear Wonwoo say goodbye to the stream then the screen turns dark. You turn your phone off, putting it back down on the coffee table.

From down the hall, you hear the door open then footsteps coming towards the living room.

Wonwoo spots you immediately, sitting on the living room floor with books and notes infront of you and your phone lying on the side. You must've been watching him.

"Oh, when did you get here?" he smiles at you, walking towards where you were then taking the vacant space on the floor beside you. He sits sideways so he's facing you, legs resting on either side of you.

"Like 30 minutes ago, you were in the middle of your stream so I thought I should finish some of this" you point at the piles of paper infront of you before turning your attention back to him "You had fun? You probably missed streaming"

"It's fun, some of the viewers and a few followers asked where I was last month I just said I needed a break" he smiles back at you, tucking a few strands of hair back then giving your ear a pinch making you giggle at the action.

That short break was actually the two of going on a trip as your first anniversary celebration. He surprised you with a trip outside the country for two weeks, just in time for term break so it worked out fine.

He could've streamed while the two of you were away, he has a laptop he could bring or stream when you got back after the trip but instead he chose to spend that time with you. It was nice having his undivided attention. Not that he ever made you feel ignored, never.

"You'll break so many hearts when they find out you're not actually single" you let out a short laugh

"I never said I was, after our first date whenever someone asks if I'm single I would say no" he says to you

"1st date? but that was such a long time ago" you recall the memory of your first day. You've been crushing on him for a while, like since you first saw him, and by some miracle one day he asked you out on a date. The two of you went to the aquarium then dinner. He courted you for a while before the two of you became an official couple, but even before that you already know you weren't going to let go of him that easy.

Here you are now a year later.

"I know" he shyly admits.

"So what do you say? You just say you're taken?"

"Kinda, I don't like talking about my personal life online so I just answer in the most simple way. I never denied I had a girlfriend so I guess it's up to them if they didn't get it" he shrugs

"Huh, I didn't"

"Huh?"

"I watch your streams, guess I never caught on"

"You watch my streams? Until now?"

"Yeah, I like watching you. It's comforting, kinda like my own comfort show"

He knows you watch him, whether you're in the same room as him or here in his home or when you're back at your own place you always tune in his stream. You really are his biggest fan.

"You know my roommate is starting to catch on, she thinks I have a crush on this 'gamer dude'" you make air quotes at the nickname, this makes Wonwoo chuckle

"Do you now?" he teases

"Yea, I think he's kinda cute. Apart from that time he wore that black button up. I was ready to throw hands"

He laughs at that, remembering just how you barged in his gaming room after the stream ended.

"You're never letting that go are you?"

"Never, you looked so good I almost grabbed you out of the screen. Not fair they get to see how hot my boyfriend is"

Wonwoo blushes at your words. Those words being used to describe him isn't new to his ears, but it's different when you say it. He can feel the butterflies flutter in his stomach, something only you can do.

Not even the scariest game can make his heart race like you.

"Do you want do drop by on my next stream or whenever?"

"Drop by?"

"I mean like just... be there. If you wanna show your face it's okay but if you don't want to it's okay too. No pressure. I don't want you thinking any of those faceless names on my screen can ever replace you" letting the words tumble out one by one because your gaze is making him nervous

You just stare at him as he talks, slowly a smile forming on your face then you're attacking him with a hug

"You're so cute, you know that?" you mumble against his neck where your face was pressed against, he chuckles at your question. Tugging you closer to him until you're straddling his lap

"Just making sure you know"

"I know, I always know. Don't you worry about that, just do you okay? I'll be here right beside you always. No matter what it is you want to do"

And he knows that too. You've always been his cheerleader, the one who always talks him into things he never thought about doing. In a way, you brought him out of his comfort zone in the most comforting way. You being there always eased his mind.

He smiles at you again before closing the distance between the two of you, giving you a kiss like he's saying he missed you today or all those days you weren't with him. He just always makes you feel like you're meant to be there with him.

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 018 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. angst, infidelity, defamation, forced incest (please read the chapter first before you come at me 😭), reader uses a gun, alcohol consumption, emotional manipulation, toxic characters and toxic relationships, iris pov (just for a short part), mentions of murder, car accidents

notes. YOOO can you guys believe we are so close to the ending!! thank you guys so much for being so sweet and supportive to dtd! even though ik most of the readers are away and busy with school now (as am i) i still hope you guys enjoy this update hehe. the next chapter drop should be around the regular dtd tuesdays <3

wc. 13k

series masterlist 

[ EIGHTEEN ] no matter how easy things could be if I did, and no matter how guilty I still feel saying it. I wish I hated you.

In hindsight, the day began like any other day in the glorious kingdom of Inarizaki.

The early morning sun cast its golden glow over the streets that bustled with people, the shops opening with smiles and greetings to the familiar faces of loyal customers. The air was filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread and brewed tea, the distant chime of church bells signalling the start of a new day.

But beneath this serene facade, a storm was threatening to blow – one that would shake the very foundations of the already fragile throne. Iris knew this, too – she could feel it, could extend her hand and have her fingertips brush against her inevitable end.

As the first rays of light filtered through the windows of homes and cafes, Iris watched as the kingdom’s most widely read newspapers hit the stands. The headline had been bold and dramatic, splashed across the front page in large, black letters enough to garner heads turning its way. Who Is The Real Iris Amari? it read, accompanied by a series of photographs that left little to the imagination.

The citizens of Inarizaki began their mind-numbing routine, unaware of the bombshell waiting for them in the morning news. It started slowly, with a few early risers picking up the newspaper and gasping in shock. Unsurprisingly, the scandal spread like wildfire.

The younger ones scrolled through their phones, stopping in their tracks as the news popped up on their screens. The article quickly went viral, shared across social media platforms in the speed of light. It seemed that everyone had something to say about the explosive revelation – Iris’ official portrait decorated on it all.

In a cafe Iris had once loved visiting when she was still a teenager, where morning coffee was usually a time spent with light-hearted chatter and gossip during a faraway era when she still had friends, the atmosphere grew tense and charged. She could’ve been one of them, she thinks, a group of young people huddled together, their voices hushed but urgent. “Did you see the news about Princess Iris?” a woman whispered to her companion, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Her mother involved in a murder? I can’t believe it?”

“Now that they mention it,” mumbled the man next to her, stroking his chin in thought. “It was rather odd that she got married to the Second Prince out of nowhere.”

All across the Kingdom, people gathered in small clusters – their faces a mix of shock, outrage, and disbelief. The photographs shown in the article were damning, capturing moments that painted a grim picture of Princess Iris’ past. One image showed her mother, Kate Amari, in a heated argument with the Late King. Another depicted Iris herself at a lavish party, her expression one of defiance and rebellion.

She’d remembered that party, could recall how the events went crystal clear. She’d been so young, barely nineteen and out of high school, when the impending doom of her fate grew ever near. A few years from now, she would’ve been forced into a marriage with a Prince whose affections she could never win. And what better way to accept her fate than make her mother outraged? So she’d partied, drunk herself to nearly the point of no return, and stumbled back home crying because she’d known. Her fate had been decided from her the moment the Late King slipped from her mother’s grasp, and into the arms of another woman.

She could have never escaped it.

She was nothing but a painful reminder of what her mother could’ve had. I could’ve been his concubine, her mother would cry herself to sleep, screaming those words over and over. Glass would shatter on the walls as she threw another empty bottle of wine over Iris’ head. He said he loved me! He said he would take us home and we would be together as a family!

Such dreams were shattered in the blink of an eye. No matter how much she wailed, and ran after the Late King, it never changed the fact that her mother was the daughter of a lowborn servant, and the Late King had always been majestic from the day he was born.

We were in love, she would tell Iris, brushing her hands through her dark locks – the same shade as the King’s. He’d always loved me, you see. Before the Crown forced him to marry her, you know? The Queen? The one who never smiles? He doesn’t love her, my dear, but he has us. You and me, his precious girls.

Iris thought his mother was delusional. She knew all about it, of course. She’d read her mother’s journals, the love letters the King had penned. She hadn’t been lying that he loved her, once.

The King, merely a Crown Prince at the time, aged sixteen when he first crossed the borders and paid an official visit to the humbler towns of Itachiyama where he met her mother. They’d been young, and foolishly in love. And her mother, illiterate and innocent, had captured the Prince’s heart. He thought her an ideal woman; unstained by ideals, untainted by the law. She knew only how to love him, and for once in his life, he’d felt more of a boy than he was a Prince. He’d made promises he couldn’t keep, promises of running away to the ends of the earth where they could be together.

Like a fool, Iris’ mother held onto his promise. She kept her loyalty even after he’d married the current Queen. She kept chasing after him even after the First Prince – a bastard child – was born. She’d loved him, through and through, until he returned to Itachiyama and made her believe he’d returned for her, only to stumble in the same sheets as Kiyoomi’s mother.

Her mother hadn’t been the same ever since.

She grew obsessed with revenge, throwing herself into a path where redemption couldn’t exist. She’d studied, made a name of herself, and flew to Inarizaki the moment the King had drunkenly put a child into her belly. Not that the King could remember – hence why he never accepted Iris as his own.

But she’d find herself amongst her true family. That was Kate Amari’s promise before the Queen betrayed her, and put her behind bars.

On the busy streets of the capital, pedestrians paused to check their phones, their reactions intense. Some stared in disbelief, while others shook their heads in disgust. A few young people, who had grown up admiring Princess Iris, felt a deep sense of betrayal. “I always thought she was different,” a teenager muttered to his friend. “But this... this is something else.”

The Palace was thrown into chaos as the news spread.

Inside the grand halls, staff members whispered amongst themselves, casting anxious glances towards the royal chambers. Courtiers and advisors rushed to convene emergency meetings, their faces pale and drawn. The Queen, upon hearing the news, simply sat down and pressed her lips into a thin line.

In the markets and town squares, debates broke out as people tried to make sense of the allegations. Some defended Princess Iris, arguing that the writer was anonymous, and the photographs could be doctored. “You can’t believe everything you read,” a shopkeeper insisted, waving his hand dismissively. “This could be a plot to discredit the royal family.”

The others were not so easily convinced. “Look at the evidence,” a customer countered, pointing to the newspaper. “The photographs, the timeline – it all fits. How can you ignore that?”

The debate raged on, with emotions running high on both sides. Some citizens called for Princess Iris to be stripped of her title and brought to justice, while others urged caution and a thorough investigation before jumping to conclusions. It was evident that the Kingdom stood on the brink of a social and political upheaval.

Even as the palace attempted to manage the fallout, the scandal showed no signs of abating.

News channels broadcasted special reports, experts weight in with their opinions, and social media buzzed with speculation and outrage. The Kingdom of Inarizaki had never seen such a scandal, and it seemed that everyone had been swept up in the maelstrom.

In the midst of the chaos, Princess Iris remained secluded within the palace walls, shielded from the public eye as she held a hand to her belly. But the damage was done. The question on everyone’s mind was how the royal family would recover from such a devastating blow – a question not even Iris had the answer to.

She knew one thing, and one thing, only.

She was a Princess, and she’d do anything to keep her place within the Palace walls.

Iris stood by the window of her – your – lavishly decorated room, staring out at the gardens she had once found solace in. The vibrant flowers, the meticulously trimmed hedges, the majestic fountains – all of it seemed like a distant memory now, a world that no longer belonged to her. Instead, a hollow numbness settled deep within her chest, a void where her hopes and dreams once resided.

When Iris first laid eyes on you on the day Rintaro picked you out in a crowded room, she’d thought you were harmless. Dull. Plain. You spoke only what needed to be said, and made no unnecessary movements. Stiff, and boring. She would’ve never thought, or seen it coming, that her damnation would come from the hands of a poor, lovesick girl who’d been lied to.

The heavy footsteps of the guards echoed in the corridor outside, growing louder with each passing second. She knew they were coming for her, to escort her out of the Palace for the last time.

The ornate mirror on the wall showed a reflection Iris could barely recognized – the same as her mother’s eyes had now lost their spark, a face that aged overnight from the weight of the scandal.

The door opened with a creak, and the guards stepped in. She felt their presence more than she saw it, their stern faces and impassive conveying the gravity of her situation. They waited silently, giving her a moment to gather herself, but there was nothing left to gather. Her spirit felt fragmented, her resolve shattered. Now, all she felt was anger hidden underneath a layer of numbness. Don’t look at me like that, she wanted to sneer, I am your Princess. I am the King’s only daughter!

She turned from the window, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she were in a dream. Her heart was a heavy stone in her chest, each beat a reminder of the life she was leaving behind.

The corridor stretched out before her, each step echoing with a finality that was almost suffocating. The opulence of the palace, the tapestries, and gilded frames, all seemed to mock her now. She had once walked these halls with confidence and grace, but now, every step felt like a march towards her end. It was all hers – all could’ve been hers – if you never stepped in and took it all away from her.

As she descended the staircase, the memories of simpler times haunted her. The laughter, the never-ending banquets and stock of wine, the promises of a future that had been her birthright – they all seemed like a cruel illusion now. She could feel the eyes of the palace staff on her, their pity and curiosity cutting through the numbness like a knife. Still, she kept her head high, determined to maintain her dignity in these final moments.

The guards flanked her as she reached the main entrance. The heavy doors were already open, revealing the world beyond the palace walls. The bright sunlight was almost blinding. She paused at the threshold, taking one last look at the place that had been her home, her prison, and her battleground.

With a deep breath, she stepped out into the light. The doors closed behind her with a final, echoing thud, sealing her fate. The guards guided her towards the waiting vehicle, their hands gentle yet firm on her arms. She climbed inside, her movements robotic, her mind still struggling to process the enormity of what was happening.

As the carriage began to move, the palace slowly disappeared from view, replaced by the bustling streets of the city. She saw the faces of the citizens, some curious, some indifferent, and a few sympathetic. But none of it mattered anymore. Her life as Princess Iris was over, and what lay ahead was a life she never deserved.

The numbness returned, a merciful shield against the overwhelming reality. She leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes, letting the gentle sway of the carriage lull her into a state of detached calm. The future was uncertain, but for now, all she could do was endure.

+

Summoned by the royal advisors and members of the council, Iris made her way to the council chamber. As she approached the large, intricately carved doors, two guards pushed them open, revealing a room filled with stern faces and accusatory eyes.

The room was a stark contrast to the rest of the palace. It was dimly lit, with long shadows cast by the flickering candlelight. The heavy wooden table at the center was surrounded by the kingdom’s most powerful and influential figures, all of whom had been convened to address the scandal that had erupted overnight.

“Princess Iris,” one of the senior advisors began, his voice cold and devoid of empathy. "Do you understand the gravity of the situation? The article has not only tarnished your reputation but has also brought disgrace upon the entire royal family."

Iris stood before them, trying to maintain her composure. Her eyes met those of the advisors, seeking any hint of understanding or compassion, but finding none. She nodded, unable to trust her voice to remain steady. She’d already figured this would happen.

“We have no choice,” another advisor interjected. “The people demand accountability, and the council has decided that you must be stripped of your title. This is a necessary step to restore faith in the monarchy.”

The words hit her like a physical blow. Stripped of her title. The enormity of the situation began to sink in, and she felt a wave of humiliation wash over her.

“You can’t,” she croaked out, her throat growing dry. “I-I am married to the Second Prince, and my title is secured. You cannot separate us as divorce is illegal, and if you do so... that would be saying the Prince loses his title, too.”

The advisors shared a look with one another, processing the gravity of her words. “While what you say is indeed true, this is one of those occasions where we must make... necessary adjustments,” the senior advisor said, his glasses pushed up to his nose. “We have already taken measures to fact-check the article and–”

“And?”

The senior advisor glares at her for interrupting. The entire change in attitude was impalpable; now that she’d been scandalized, everyone suddenly lost respect for her. “–And we found that everything written in it was true, just as the photographs are real. We also found records confirming that your mother, Kate Amari, was imprisoned years ago for murder. The King’s murder.”

A bitter, sardonic laugh bubbled from her throat. “I do not deny that, but did anyone ever investigate why she killed him?” A round of gasps echoed through the room at the revelation. “I am willing to bet on my whole life that none of you know how important I am in the royal family, that if it weren’t for me, all of you would be losing your positions and jobs as we speak! It was I who kept all the secrets, the one and only reason you are all able to live your pathetic, worthless lives because none of you know anything! You don’t even know that the Queen you worship reverently is–”

The grand doors of the courtroom creaked open, and the air seemed to grow heavier with each passing second. All eyes turned towards the entrance as the Queen, clad in a dark, regal gown that seemed to absorb the light, stepped into the room. Her presence commanded an immediate, oppressive silence, freezing everyone in their places.

Her gaze, cold and calculating, swept across the assembly, landing on each individual with the weight of her authority. The air was thick with tension as courtiers and officials alike dared not to breathe too loudly, lest they draw her scrutiny. Iris felt her heart seize in her chest, her earlier numbness replaced by a paralyzing fear. The Queen’s entrance had turned the room into a tableau of silent dread, each person awaiting the inevitable judgment that her arrival heralded.

“That is enough,” her cold, heartless voice sweeps across the room. “The final decision has been made. You are no longer allowed to speak another word unless I, the Queen, permits it.”

“Traitor,” Iris sneered, baring her teeth and lunging at the Queen when the guards held her back. “You’re a traitor! This isn’t what we agreed upon!”

The Queen, unfazed, sighs. “Take her away from here.”

Before Iris could protest further, a pair of strong arms escorted her to the grand hall for the public ceremony. The grand hall, usually a place of celebration and state affairs, was now filled with a somber and judgmental crowd. Nobles, courtiers, and even some members of the public had gathered to witness the spectacle. The air was thick with anticipation and whispers.

The whispers grew louder with each step she took. She walked with her head held high, determined not to let them see her crumble.

The queen, stood at the front of the room. She held a scepter in her hand, a symbol of the authority that was about to be wielded against Iris. The ceremony was swift, almost mechanical in its execution.

“Princess Iris,” the queen began, her voice echoing through the hall. “You have brought dishonor to this family and to this kingdom. By the power vested in me, I hereby strip you of your title and all the privileges that come with it.”

With those words, the queen raised the scepter and tapped it on Iris’s shoulder. The symbolic gesture felt like a final, crushing blow. The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, a mix of shock, satisfaction, and pity. Meanwhile, Iris stood, her eyes drawn to the ground as she fought back against the tears that threatened to fall.

She couldn’t believe it. The Queen had broken their agreement, turned back on her word like she did with her Mother. She’d promised her mother to place her within the royal family, then banished her overseas without another word. Now, she betrayed Iris too – arranging her marriage with Kiyoomi, her brother, and took it away from her.

The queen continued, her voice unwavering. “You are no longer Princess Iris of Inarizaki. You are hereby banished from the royal palace, and your marriage to Prince Kiyoomi is annulled.”

The crowd gasped, the severity of the punishment sinking in. Iris raised her head, unable to stop the tear slipping down her cheek. Quickly, she wiped it away. She had to remain strong, if only for the sake of her dignity, because what could she say now? That she was pregnant, and Kiyoomi had to continue with the announcement of ‘the happy news’? She couldn’t – she was stuck in a dead-end corner, and judging by the slight smile playing on the Queen’s lips, she’d already calculated this potential move.

She’d known Iris would never bring up the baby to save herself. Iris would never subject herself to an unwanted pregnancy, keeping up this pretend of sickening act of husband and wife with her brother any longer. If she did, the Crown would pressure her to have another child – one with Kiyoomi this time around, assuming that Rintaro would be disposed of soon enough.

Iris couldn’t go that far.

The Queen, as always, got what she wanted and won.

As the ceremony concluded, Iris turned and walked out of the grand hall. The heavy doors closed behind her with a resounding thud.

Her mind raced with thoughts of what to do next. Where would she go now? Her mother was gone, and she had no allies, made no friends. Maiko could’ve been someone to run to, but even the foolish kid had been too enamoured with you to ever have any loyalty for her. But she refused to let it end like this. She had to clear her mother’s name, to reveal the truth about the queen’s crimes.

She wasn’t going to let it end like this.

With her title stripped and her future uncertain, Iris vowed to fight back. She would uncover the secrets buried deep within the palace walls, expose the queen’s treachery, and reclaim her honor. As she walked away from the palace, the whispers of the crowd still echoing in her ears, Iris walked onwards with newfound resolve. She might have lost her title, but she had not lost her spirit. The battle for her mother’s honor and her own redemption had only just begun.

She would take back what was hers.

The palace was sent into a whirlwind of chaos after Iris’ deposition.

You and Kiyoomi stood in the hallway of Belleview Manor, observing the frenzy. Servants moved like automatons, their faces set in grim determination as they hauled the remnants of Iris’ belongings out of her quarters, tossing her clothes and personal items into hastily arranged piles.

You watched as delicate dresses were carelessly bundled, precious trinkets thrown aside, and keepsakes unceremoniously discarded. Your eyes fell upon a particularly cherished item – a framed photo of a younger Iris and what appeared to be her mother. Their faces were lit into smiles, Iris’ smaller hands held tightly within her mother’s. It struck a chord of guilt within you, and you stepped forward, halting a servant who was about to toss it aside.

“Leave it,” you mouth silently, taking the photograph from the bewildered servant’s hands. Clutching the frame, you held it tightly to your chest, looking up at Kiyoomi with wide eyes.

It’d been less than a week since the news spread of Iris’ abrupt leave. The Queen had stripped her off her title, and the entire Kingdom had been harsh in their glee over it. It was ruthless, needless to say, how easily they turned on Iris – who was once their Princess – the moment the article had been released. She went from being adored to being shunned to the point that even Itachiyama had closed its doors on her.

But wasn’t that what you wanted?

You’d been so desperate to keep Kiyoomi away from her grasp. Now, you’d succeeded. Iris had left, your room was now yours again, and any traces of the brunette finally disappeared.

And yet... why did none of it feel good? You weren’t proud, weren’t happy.

Outside, the commotion was no less intense. The air was thick with whispers and hurried conversations, the scent of scandal permeating every corner of the palace grounds. Meanwhile, Kiyoomi watched it all unfurl with a cold dispassion, as if he was merely an observer.

Your heart ached with a pang of pity as you glanced at him, but there was no time to dwell on it. In the span of forty eight hours, he’d lost his wife, and was pushed to being another pawn again. That part you hadn’t thought through – Kiyoomi may have been freed from Iris, but who was to stop the Queen from marrying him off to another woman? The political crisis between Itachiyama and Inarizaki was temporarily resolved the last time he’d went there, when you went there, but that had been months. And now, with the recent issue of Itachiyama being shamed for having such ‘lowborn people’ like Iris, none of it was getting better.

A small voice in your head urged you to find Iris, to offer some semblance of comfort or understanding. Gripping the photograph tighter, you make your way to your car, wondering where Iris might have gone after experiencing such a public humiliation.

Just as you were about to open the car door, a firm hand grabbed your arm. You turned to see Kiyoomi right behind you, his face etched with a mixture of confusion and concern. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I have to find Iris.”

“No,” his grip tightens with urgency, already slamming the car door shut behind you. “You shouldn’t go anywhere. It’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous? What’s going on?”

“She’s not going to let this end,” he murmurs silently, pulling you into his chest as he looks around warily. He didn’t need to elaborate; the gravity of the moment was clear. The scandal, the disgrace, it was spreading like wildfire. There was no telling where it would end or what further damage might be done.

“Kiyoomi... Did I do the right thing?” you ask him, brow furrowing as your palms grew sweaty. “I-I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I know it would’ve gotten your marriage annulled with her, but... I don’t know what they’re going to do her, Omi. Will she be alright out there?”

Kiyoomi’s lips press into a thin line. “She will be, but I can’t guarantee things will stay the same,” he pauses, as if hesitating, then reaches to comb his hair back. “Listen. Iris is not going to take any of this lightly. There’s no telling what she will do next, but I can guarantee that none of us are safe here.”

You bite your lip, pondering it before you decided, “I still need to go.”

“Where will you go?” Kiyoomi lets go of your hand, not wanting to stop you, but not entirely willing to let you leave either. Instead, his shoulders sagged, his eyes pleading. “Just... Stay here with me. Or at least let me accompany you.”

You shook your head. You’d just freed Kiyoomi from the ties that bound him; if you dragged him with you again, then this would never end. This was something you had to solve for yourself, but if Iris couldn’t be found , then you had to start with him. “I need to find Rintaro. He still has a child with her, Omi. We don’t know how he’s handling the situation right now.”

Kiyoomi’s lips pressed into a thin line. Sighing through his nose, he seemed to have an internal debate before he closes his eyes. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s...” you insisted, “I think you should stay behind.”

Silence stretches between you both. For a moment, it looks like Kiyoomi wanted to say more, but chose not to. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt you – the way he closed off on himself, his walls put up so high you could barely look past it. But what could you do? And Kiyoomi, too, must’ve known this was a losing game. Forcing a smile on his face, he nods.

“Call me if you need anything.”

You smile at him gratefully, photograph still clutched to your chest before opening the car door. Then, you sped out of the driveway and called Rintaro, unsurprised that it went straight to voicemail. You tried asking the twins, even Kita, anyone who might’ve known where your husband was. But alas, none of them had the slightest clue. The last they saw of him was just before Iris was taken away by the guards, hovering behind her with an impassive look on his face.

He’d shortly disappeared after that. None of your texts and calls came through.

Jaw clenched, you turned on the location tracker you’d placed on his phone that time before you left for Itachiyama, mindlessly turning on the radio in case there’d been any reported sightings. You tuned in, letting the music fill the space in the air.

You gripped the steering wheel, your knuckles stiff with tension. You’d been driving for what seemed like hours now, eyes scanning the roads and alleys, searching for any sign of Rintaro. Fatigue weighed heavily on you now that the sun had long set, your eyelids drooping and your body aching from being sat for so long. Still, the tracker on your phone remained stubbornly blank, offering no direction to head in.

Just as you decided to turn back, the car radio crackled to life. The unmistakable voice of Iris filled the vehicle. You immediately went still, your heart pounding in your chest. You quickly pulled over to the side of the road, your breath catching as you listened intently.

Greetings, citizens of Inarizaki. It is I, Iris Amari, your former Princess and representative of Itachiyama. As you all know, I have recently been stripped of my titles now that the history behind my mother’s sudden disappearance has been uncovered.

A short pause.

I confess that I am guilty of manipulating the Crown Prince out of my boredom. The truth is, I was in a loveless marriage with the Second Prince, and I was lonely in the Palace when my husband would leave me to entertain myself for weeks, sometimes months on end. A lonely woman could only endure so much, and the Crown Prince was always there – warm, welcoming, and as lovely as he’d been when we met during our school years. I couldn’t help but seek out his company, even when he’d already married the Yuzuru heiress. After all, I knew my marriage with the Second Prince was hopeless. He would never speak to me, much less look my way – an arrangement I was satisfied with as long as it meant I could remain being a Princess.

You leant back in your seat, gnawing at your lip as you hung on to every word she said.

Now, to answer the question everyone has been dying to know: how did a no-name foreigner like me marry into the Royal Family? The truth is simple. I am the King’s only daughter, and Her Majesty the Queen manipulated my desperate, lovesick, and heartbroken mother to do her bidding. They’d both been victims of the King, their hearts toyed with until they were fueled with anger.

Your grip on the steering wheel loosened. Glancing at Iris’ photograph on the passenger seat, you stared hard at her features – green eyes, loose and dark wavy hair, almost with the same pattern of Kiyoomi’s curls. Looking at her now, Iris had always looked so... familiar. And that thought – or realization – alone, had your mouth drying.

But if they were both the King’s children, and they were married... A gasp fell from your lips.

Was that why Kiyoomi refused to touch her? Why he’d looked at her, repulsed and paling like she was vermin? It hadn’t been because she was, but rather because she was his sister.

The Queen, having had enough of her husband’s affairs and mistreatments, ordered my mother to murder him under the promise she would welcome me into the Palace. My mother did as she was told, concerned only with securing her daughter’s future, but the Queen betrayed us. Shortly after the King died, the Queen banished my mother from Inarizaki and put her behind bars to ensure her silence.

As a last resort to somewhat keep her end of the deal, she then enrolled me in Inarizaki Private Royal Academy to learn about how to run the country as a future Princess. Years later, after I graduated, she arranged my marriage with Prince Kiyoomi, my half-brother.

Now this all begs the question regarding the recent cheating scandal of the Crown Prince: if I’d known all this time that I was the King’s daughter, did I not seduce my own blood and flesh?

You may think so, but the Queen keeps a plethora of lies to keep this Kingdom running – one of her secrets being that she never had a child with the Late King, and Crown Prince Rintaro is nothing but a fraud. He is not of royal flesh and blood. He is nothing but a boy picked up on the streets to become the Queen’s puppet.

When the announcement ended, the music previously playing stuttered before continuing to where it left off. You sat there, stunned in silence with your mind reacing.

The sound of your heartbeat filled your ears, loud enough that it pulsed with the vehicle’s hum. Suddenly, your phone flashed with a notification – the tracker had located Rintaro. Adrenaline surged through you, and you slammed your foot on the gas, the car lurching forward as you sped off.

Now that Rintaro’s secret was out, you needed to find him first before the police did.

You drove through the dimly lit streets, your surroundings growing increasingly desolate. The familiar cityscape gave way to the outskirts, a labyrinth of abandoned warehouses and crumbling buildings. Shadows loomed large, casting eerie shapes that seemed to dance in the periphery of your vision. Your anxiety grew with each passing mile, the unease settling like a heavy weight in your chest.

Gripping the steering wheel tighter, you forced yourself to take a deep breath.

The once smooth road turned rough and pitted, each bump jarring your already frazzled nerves. The neon glow of the city was long behind you, now replaced by the flickering, sporadic streetlights that only deepened the shadows.

After what felt like forever, you’d finally reached your destination – a decrepit building that looked to have been abandoned for years. The windows were boarded up, and graffiti marred its exterior. Despite its appearance, the low thump of music resonated through the walls, a steady, booming pulse that hinted at life within. You parked your car and stepped out, your eyes darting around the unfamiliar surroundings.

The building loomed over you, dark and foreboding. You balled your fists at your sides, trying to steady your frantically racing heart.

As you approached the entrance, you were greeted by a hulking figure. “You got a pass?”

You blinked your eyes up at the bouncer, standing guard. He was imposing, his large, hulking arms crossed over his chest. “Uh,” you licked your dry lips, vaguely realizing a little too late that you’re inappropriately dressed for this event – pearl necklace, diamond earrings, and a silk below-the-knee champagne coloured dress. “N-No, I don’t.”

“Then I’m sorry, Miss, you can’t enter. This is an invite-only party.”

You’re already fiddling with your purse. “How much?” you raised your brows, daring the bouncer to continue smirking when he noticed the seriousness on your face. “Name me your price.” He was quick to mention the numbers, and without sparing him another glance, you shoved a wad of cash – with extra – to his tattooed hands.

The bouncer’s smirk grew wider, satisfied as he pockets the bills. “Welcome to Ecstasy. Enjoy your stay. If you don’t have a mask yet, someone at the counter will give you one. At the right price.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed past him and through the doors. The music grew louder as you neared, its relentless beat matching the pounding of your heart. You squared your shoulders, prepared to face whatever lay behind the doors of this unsettling, hidden nightclub. What the hell was Rintaro doing here?

The deeper you entered the club, the louder the music got. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and something else you couldn’t quite place. The interior was a chaotic blend of darkness and vibrant neon lights, flashing in sync with the pounding bass of the music – loud enough to give you a headache. The colors danced erratically, casting shifting shadows across the grinding bodies across the room.

Everywhere you looked, people were hidden behind masks, their identities obscured in a surreal modern-era masquerade.

The masks ranged from simple to elaborate, animal-themed, Venetian, some grotesque. Yours was a simple bunny-mask, its ears protruding at the sides and the nose wide enough to cover a fraction of your eyes. You understood now why Rintaro chose to be here – the anonymity gave the revelers a sense of freedom, their movements uninhibited and wild. Everyone danced with abandon, bodies pressed close together as they moved as one with the beat. In the corners, couples were locked in passionate embraces, their hands trailing in places it shouldn’t be – completely oblivious to the world around them.

Discomfort washed over you as you navigated through the crowd.

The noise was overwhelming, a constant assault on your senses. Your formal attire, elegant and out of place, drew curious and sometimes hungry stares from the masked partygoers. Your feeble attempt in donning the bunny mask did little to hide your unease.

You pushed through the crowd, determined to find Rintaro.

Men in masks turned to watch you, their gazes lingering too long for comfort. You quickened your pace, ignoring the murmurs and the eyes that followed your every move. The flashing lights made it hard to see clearly, but you couldn’t back out now. You’d already reached this far. There was no way you were going to leave this hellish place without your husband in tow.

Finally, you spotted a tuft of dark, unruly hair.

Rintaro sat slumped at the bar, nursing a drink as his head bobbed in time to the rhythm of the music. He looked weary and lost, a stark contrast to the frenzy around him. Relief washed over you as you made your way beside him, the chaotic energy of the club seemingly fading in the background. You reached out to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder in hopes to draw him out of his stupor and back to you.

When he finally turned to you, you were met with his familiar hazel eyes – ones that bordered more on green than brown. He looked exhausted; dark circles visible even behind his wolf-shaped mask, the whiskers nearly comical as it draped on the sides. You grinned at him, relieved to have found him safe and sound. Throwing your arms around him – or more like attempted to – you found yourself gently shoved back, your lower back connecting with the stool behind you.

“Don’t touch me,” he sneers, his words slurred. “My wife won’t like it if she sees you.”

You frowned at him, rubbing at the sore spot at your back. “Don’t be stupid. We need to go home. Now.”

Rintaro throws his head back in laughter, gesturing to the bartender for another refill. Once his glass was full again, he took slow, deliberate sips – his face impassive and his eyes cold. “The night is too young. Why would I want to leave?” he murmurs more to himself than you, his gaze narrowing at your hunched figure beside him. He stares, hard, making you squirm beneath the mask. But Rintaro simply sniffs, pointing his drink in your direction. “You look awfully familiar.”

“That’s because I’m your wife. Now let’s go.”

“My wife, huh? Now I know you’re lying,” he shakes his head to himself, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he downs his drink in one go. “My wife would never look for me, and she’d never come to a place like this. She’s a little too good for everybody. A little too great for the likes of us. Even for someone like me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re not going to believe this, but I recently just found out that I’m–” he closes the distance between you, close enough that his cologne and the stench of alcohol overwhelms you. Then, he cups his palm around his mouth as if to say a secret, his mouth dangerously close to your ear as his voice drops. “–Adopted. Or kidnapped, if we’re going to be precise. Fucked up, right? But you want to know what’s even more fucked up? It’s that I genuinely thought I was this great, praise-worthy Prince who deserved no one better but my wife. And I–” his chuckles grew louder, the humour in them absent, “–I ruined it. Ruined her life. Because she doesn’t even know that she married some stupid, lowborn gardener’s son.”

You frowned at his words. Crossing your arms against your chest, you spun on your stool and faced him directly, snatching the glass from his hand before he could ask for another refill. This time around, Rintaro doesn’t protest. Just slumps further against the bar’s counter.

“Don’t talk like that. I’m sure she doesn’t think of you any differently.”

“She already does. She can barely stand to be in the same room as me,” he sighs, his head buried in his arms before him. Sleepily, and drunk out of his mind, he gazes up at you under his lashes – the sadness deep and prominent within his eyes. “She could’ve married someone else if I never came into her world, you know? She could’ve married a Lord, or-or a Duke. Hell, she could have been a Princess from another Kingdom. She deserved all that and more. Instead she’s stuck with me and I–” his breaths stuttered, “–I’m no one.”

That was it. You’d had enough of his pity party. Did he really come all the way here just to feel bad about himself? Sliding the glass towards the bartender’s way, you grabbed Rintaro by the arm, heaving at his nearly dead weight. “Rin. Please. Let’s go home.”

“I have no home,” he whines, and it’s only now you notice the tears glistening in his eyes. “I don’t have a wife, I lost my girlfriend who’s pregnant with my child, and I – where would I go? There’s no place for me here.”

“You could go with me.”

“You’re not my wife. I don’t want to go anywhere without her.”

“Rintaro, I am your wife,” you repeat, shoving your left hand right in front of his face. He’s immediately entranced by the sight, and leans into the curve of your palm. “We wear the same rings, see? It’s me.”

The sigh he lets out is dreamy. “Yeah, I’m not sober enough for this. Now I’m seeing her too.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, you lead him back to the bar, and help him sit down without falling on his bottom. “Okay, how about this? I get you a few more drinks, and then I’ll take you back to your wife, alright? I heard the Princess was looking for you.”

Rintaro’s sniffles grow louder as he avoids your gaze. “Why would she? She’s happier now that she’s with Kiyoomi. He’s the better man, anyway, better than me in all aspects.”

The memory of Kiyoomi’s lips flashed through your mind. Faintly, you wondered if this was considered hurting Kiyoomi’s feelings – running after your husband, and tending to him when he was not in his right mind. Just the thought of Kiyoomi patiently waiting for you back at Belleview Manor broke your heart. Or maybe he paced back and forth, anxiously opening his phone every minute to check if you’d updated again – you hadn’t.

But you would return, that you knew. The past few days with him – no, everything had made your decision clear. Regardless of whatever happened next… if Rintaro would be taken away by the police, or if the Queen disposed of him first, you’d already made your mind.

You were going to choose Kiyoomi.

But tonight… tonight, Rintaro needed you. Cupping his face in your hands, you levelled his gaze with yours, putting on your warmest smile – just like how you always did whenever Rintaro ran to you, worried and burdened with his day’s work. Even if he couldn’t truly recognize you, at least your touch would – hopefully – be familiar enough. “She’s worried for you, and she sent me here to take you home. She said she wants to talk.”

“She still wants to talk to me?”

Your heart ached. You’d never heard Rintaro sound this… helpless before, and at the same time hopeful. “Of course, Rin. Always.”

“Fine,” he relents, “but you’re paying for my drinks.”

You discreetly signal to the bartender, sliding over a generous amount of cash to cover all the drinks he’d ‘ordered.’ Thankfully, he understands your silent plea, nodding and begins to serve him water instead. Rintaro, too lost in his own world, didn’t seem to notice the change as he continued to down glass after glass.

Once he had reached his limit, you gently took his arm, guiding him away from the bar and through the club. To say the journey back to your car was arduous was an understatement. Rintaro kept leaning heavily on you, his weight almost too much for you to bear. His stumbling steps made your own balance precarious, especially in your delicate kitten heels. You gritted your teeth, determined to keep you both upright as you navigated the crowded, uneven terrain outside the club.

The rocky pavement outside made the task a lot more challenging than it should be. Each step was a battle, your husband’s larger frame swaying with each faltering step. You glanced around, spotting one of his cars parked far away, but you ignored it and focused on bringing him to yours instead. You’d just have to take care of the traces he left later.

With great effort – and a lot of sweat – you finally managed to get him to your car. You opened the back door, easing him inside. Rintaro whined and resisted, but you persisted, swatting his hands away to get him settled.

You managed to manoeuvre him into the backseat, checking twice to ensure he was comfortable enough before closing the door. Before you could, Rintaro suddenly reached out to you, his fingers tugging at your sleeves. “Wait,” he pleads, his eyes huge and vulnerable.

“What?”

“Need to... need to look good,” he rambled on, stretching his long legs at the backseat and tugging at his own shirt. The material is already wrinkled beyond belief, the top buttons undone. He keeps fidgeting with it, grabbing your hands to help him fix it. Stunned, your hands hover awkwardly over his chest – unsure if buttoning it up for him would be enough to satisfy him. “Do I look good? Don’t wanna – don’t wanna look drunk. She’ll get mad. Don’t want my wife seeing me like this.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words. Sighing, you reached over and closed the top buttons, patting his chest down as if to say ‘there you go.’ “You look fine. Stop grumbling.”

Convinced enough, Rintaro stops fidgeting. You were about to close the car door once more when he suddenly pulled you next to him. You squealed, barely catching your balance as you fell beside him. In one, swift movement, Rintaro had laid down and rested his head on your lap, his long legs awkwardly curled beneath him. There, he sighs, his large hands fisting your dress as you sit still – unable to move.

 “Just a few more hours, please? I want to sleep.”

You agree, finding it difficult to say no when Rintaro was so… clingy like this. It wasn’t like you could return to the Palace, anyway. Rintaro would most likely be a target of the Police, and the entire government now that everyone knows he was a fraud. He didn’t need to go back to that. You’d rather keep him here – in your lap, safe and sleepy and warm. Unable to help it, you run your hands through his hair, carding your fingers through the strands and raking your nails against his scalp. It causes him to purr like a cat, the sound entertaining before he buries himself closer to your stomach.

 “...Nice.”

“What?”

“Said you smell nice. Smell like my wife.”

The morning sunlight filtered through the car windows, its warmth gently jostling you awake. You blinked blearily, momentarily disoriented as you realized you’d fallen asleep. As you tried to move, you noticed the weight on your lap.

Rintaro was asleep there, his face relaxed and peaceful. The harsh lines of stress and pain that usually marked his features were smoothed away as he slumbers, making him appear younger, almost innocent.

You stared at him for a little longer, captivated by the rare serenity in his expression. Your fingers began to move on their own accord, gently caressing his cheek. His skin was warm under your touch, and you marvelled at how different he looked now. In sleep, he seemed free from the burdens that weighed so heavily on him during his waking hours. But now? Your heart softened as you traced the line of his jaw, wishing you could freeze this moment in time – preserve this fleeting glimpse of the man you had once fallen madly in love with.

You hesitated in waking him up, choosing instead to let him rest a little longer.

Carefully, you reached for your purse, digging through it to find your phone. The screen lit up with several missed calls and a flurry of texts from your parents, their messages frantic and pleading for you to answer and tell them where you were. Amongst the many notifications, messages from Kiyoomi caught your eye. His last message read, “please… please tell me you’re safe.”

Your heart ached at his worry, but another message drew your attention. It was from Kuroo, his message short yet ominous: “Princess, I didn’t write this, but I think you should take a look.”

With shaky hands, you clicked on the link. As the article loaded, your anxiety surged – a cold dread settling in the pit of your stomach. You glanced down at Rintaro, still peacefully asleep, oblivious to the turmoil that awaited you both.

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐄𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐤𝐢: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐲, 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐚’𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝

In a dramatic turn of events that has left the kingdom of Inarizaki reeling, the Queen has been seized by government officials following the revelation of her involvement in heinous crimes. The charges against Her Majesty are severe and include conspiracy to commit murder, kidnapping, and fraud. This unprecedented upheaval marks a dark chapter in Inarizaki's royal history. The Queen stands accused of orchestrating the murder of her own husband, the late King, in a desperate bid to retain power. This shocking revelation came to light after a thorough investigation uncovered irrefutable evidence of her culpability. Additionally, it has been revealed that the Queen kidnapped an innocent baby, presenting him as the Crown Prince to solidify her control over the throne. This child, now known as Suna Rintaro, has been living under the false pretense of royal blood. The official charges against the Queen include: Conspiracy to Commit Murder, Kidnapping, Fraud, and High Treason. Government officials have acted swiftly, seizing Her Majesty and beginning the legal proceedings that will determine her fate. The palace is in turmoil as the full extent of her crimes comes to light. As the kingdom grapples with the Queen's treachery, another scandal has emerged, further destabilizing the royal family. Hours after former Princess Iris publicly revealed her true lineage, incriminating photos of Princess Suna, wife of Suna Rintaro, have surfaced. These photos, taken within the privacy of Belleview Manor, show Prince Kiyoomi and the Crown Prince's wife in a compromising and passionate embrace, confirming longstanding rumors of a cross-marriage affair. The scandal does not end there. Additional evidence has surfaced showing Princess Suna meeting with Kuroo Tetsuro, the notorious journalist responsible for exposing Iris and Rintaro’s affair. In these meetings, Princess Suna is seen paying Kuroo substantial sums of money, effectively funding his comfortable life abroad. It is now evident that Princess Suna orchestrated the recent articles that have shaken the kingdom, making her a clear threat and an enemy of the Crown. The public and government officials are now united in their stance: Princess Suna and Suna Rintaro must be stripped of their titles and exiled from Inarizaki. Their actions have sown discord and threatened the stability of the kingdom, and such betrayal cannot be tolerated. As Inarizaki faces this turbulent time, the hope for a restored and honest royal lineage is strong. The kingdom looks to the future, determined to heal and rebuild in the wake of these revelations. This story is still developing, and we will continue to provide updates as more information becomes available.

Panic surged through you as the article’s revelation settled in.

Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps, each one more frantic than the last. You felt your chest tighten,, your heart pounding so hard as if it would burst. Desperation clawed at you, and you knew you had to get out of the car.

As gently as you could, you pushed Rintaro’s head off your lap, careful not to disrupt his sleep. He stirred slightly, but otherwise remained unconscious. You opened the door and stumbled out onto the pavement, your legs barely supporting you as you fell to your knees. The cold, hard ground bit into your skin, but the sensation was distant – the pain faint compared to the panic that was now beginning to consume you.

Your breaths were coming in ragged, uneven bursts now, your vision blurring with tears.

You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady yourself as the world spun around you. You knew, without a doubt, that your own Kingdom had already turned against you.

With trembling fingers, you fumbled for your phone. You needed to hear his voice – the one person who could ground you, who could make you feel safe in the midst of all this mess. You found his contact and dialled, holding the phone to your ear with a grip so tight your knuckles turned white. Finally, the call connected, and you breathed out, letting the faint sound of Kiyoomi fumbling in the background like a lifeline.

“Kiyoomi?”

“Thank God you picked up. You weren’t answering any of my calls.”

You closed your eyes, focusing on each word, each comforting tone as you anchored yourself in the present. The world around you began to slow, your breathing gradually evening out. You took a deep, shaky breath, drawing strength from Kiyoomi’s presence, even if it was just through the phone.

“I-I don’t know what to do, Kiyoomi. What’s going on?”

Kiyoomi sighed from the other line. “It’s just as the news said. The Queen is being held by the government to answer for her crimes and you... you’re no longer allowed to return to the Palace. You’ve been deposed.”

“But that’s – that can’t happen. There should be a procedure, a legal procedure before they can strip me off my title!”

“I know, but with everything going on in the country right now, the officials have all decided to skip the formalities and proceed with making any unjust royal family member out of the Palace as soon as possible. You included,” more shuffling rings through the phone, and you hear a car door slamming shut. “But don’t worry, I’m heading out of the Palace right now. Tell me where you are. I’ll come find you.”

Nodding even if Kiyoomi couldn’t see it, you move to send him your location when your phone was suddenly ripped out from your hand. You watched, mouth agape, as Rintaro throws it to the ground and crushes it with the weight of his foot. You scrambled to stand up, fire raging in your veins as you looked at him – Rintaro was now awake, his hair still messed up from sleep, but his eyes were big and bright, like he’d been riding on a high.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I should be asking you that,” Rintaro glared at you, all the previous softness disappearing from his face. “Are you out of your mind? The news said we’re exiled. And you’re just giving our location to Kiyoomi like that?”

“That’s Kiyoomi! I trust him!”

“He’s a Prince, a member of the Royal Family – the same family you’re no longer a part of. I don’t care if you think you can trust him, there’s nothing he can do for you.”

“Oh, but you can do something about it?”

Rin flinched like he’d been slapped. Still, he kept his composure, his hands planted on his hips as he sighed and looked around you. You were nearly in the middle of nowhere – in the outskirts of the city, far from the inquisitive gaze of the Palace. It was almost hard to believe how so much had happened in such a short span of time, but Kiyoomi was right. Iris wouldn’t let it end there. If she was going to fall, she was going to take everyone down with her.

“I can’t help you, but you heard what they said. I’m exiled – I’m leaving this damned country.”

Your husband slammed the car door shut, and began to walk towards his car. “Rin,” you called out to him, taking two steps at a time to match his pace. “Rin, would you please just stop? Let’s talk!”

“There’s nothing to talk about!”

You stopped in your tracks, surprised when he’d turned your away. Rintaro’s face was flushed red, the vein on his neck prominent. “Why are you so angry? Oh, is it because your plans have been ruined and you can’t become King anymore, is that it? Because Iris is gone now, and you can’t have her?”

“Seriously? After all this time, you still can’t get over that?”

The laugh you let out is incredulous. “How can I? You kicked me out of our room a few days ago because you said you wanted to take care of her!”

Rintaro’s face hardens. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Well, thank you so much for telling me, because that totally changes everything,” you throw your hands up in the air, stomping to where he stood just to sneer at his face. “You really expect me to believe you stopped caring about her? The moment your girlfriend was kicked out of the Palace, what did you do? Oh, right. You went to some dingy, ‘exclusive’ anonymous nightclub and got drunk out of your mind. I think its crystal clear you needed a distraction from the pain of losing her.”

Rintaro scoffed, baring his teeth as he takes on your challenge and comes closer, your noses brushing. “What pain? I couldn’t care less that she’s gone. She never loved me anyway.”

“Then why drink yourself half to death last night? You could’ve been in real danger if I didn’t come looking for you.”

“You shouldn’t have, then.”

“A thank you would suffice.”

Rintaro’s face hardens. He takes more steps, forcing you to walk backwards until you were back to where you started – your back hitting the edge of your car. He looms over you, his eyes shining with something you couldn’t decipher. “Why did you look for me, huh? My mistress is gone. She’s out of your hair, and you could’ve had everything you wanted. Why else bother looking for me when all I did was hurt you?”

He practically forces the confession out of you. “Because I was worried about you!”

In an instant, Rintaro’s heat disappears. He flings himself backward like you’d burned him, frowning as he stares you incredulously. Then, he lets out a laugh that sounded more like a pained choke. “You are many things, but I never thought you could be a liar.”

“Liar? What are you talking about?”

He meets your gaze, his eyes cold and daring. “You don’t care about me.”

“Yes, I do!”

“No, you don’t! You know the truth, Y/N. I’m not a Prince – never have been, and never will be. You couldn’t possibly care for a fraud. You know it, too. I’m a nobody, and you were always better than me.”

Rintaro’s words hung in the air, each one landing with a weight that nearly suffocated you. Was that how he thought of you the whole time? That you’d... hated him? Thought of him differently because he wasn’t the King’s son? The very notion left you appalled. The ground beneath you felt like it shifted, your heart clenching painfully at the broken expression he wore. Shame, guilt – it all swam in the dark pools of his eyes, mingling with sorrow as you stared at him.

How could he think that, after everything?

His voice carried defeat, almost as if he wanted you to hate him, as if he believed it would make things easier.

The realization itself twisted something deep inside you. You didn’t hate him – not even close. Maybe you hated what he did, the lies that he’d kept and the facade he’d put on, pretending that he’d loved you when he didn’t. But him not being the King’s son? What did that change? Stood before you was still Rintaro, not Suna, the man you’d adored and cursed from the moon and the back. The thought that he’d been carrying this belief, suffering under it, cut you more deeply than any betrayal. Somehow, this hurt more than finding out he had another.

The fact that this whole time, Rintaro truly believed you looked down on him for not being a Prince. How could he have been so wrong?

The breath was knocked out of you, your shoulders deflating as every muscle in your body softened. “You may not be a Prince, but you’re still my husband. I still care.”

You watched the change in his expression as the words left your lips.

His eyes widened in shock, the disbelief evident against the relief that slowly unfurled across his face. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest, his breath catching in his throat. But beneath that relief, confusion lingered, the doubts overshadowing your confession. It was as if he was trying to convince himself that you were wrong, that you should hate him, that your kindness was a mistake.

You could see it all – how Rintaro desperately wanted to believe you, yet he still clung to the pain of his insecurities like it was all he knew.

“If you care so much,” his voice broke as he spoke, “Then why did you kiss Kiyoomi?”

His question struck you like a blow to the chest. The words echoed in your mind, rendering you frozen in place. How could you answer that? How could you justify what you’d done? You could say you didn’t mean it, that you’d regretted it, but that would be a lie. You’d wanted to kiss Kiyoomi. It was a long overdue kiss, and until now, you still wanted to run back into his arms and have him tell you everything would be okay.

And that must show in your face – your blatant infatuation with the Second Prince. Rintaro’s face was a mixture of hurt and confusion as his gaze landed on your lips, probably picturing the way you’d kissed someone else. It made you feel small, like a child caught with their hand deep in a cookie jar. Your mind race, searching for an explanation, a way to make him understand, but all you could feel was the crushing sense of betrayal you’d inflicted on him – on both of you.

The truth was too messy, one that you couldn’t explain yourself. You cared for Rintaro, would do anything to protect him and save him from the mess he’d been tangled in. But you also loved Kiyoomi, loved tangling your hands in his curls, and laying your head on his chest to hear his heartbeat. You would fight a far for your husband, but when that war was over?

You would run straight home to Kiyoomi.

Still, you wanted to reach out. To say something, anything, that would take away the pain in his eyes, but the words were lodged deep in your throat. All you could do was stare at him, realizing too late you had hurt him in a way that might never fully feal.

“So you love him,” he concluded, and when you didn’t refuse, Rintaro nodded to himself – letting the words sink in. One of his hands were planted on his hips, the other fisted on his lip with his brows furrowed. “Was it... was it after I kicked you off to Belleview Manor? Or has it... have you liked him for longer than that?”

Since Itachiyama, you wanted to say, almost apologetically, since the day you kept choosing her over me.

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, a distant rumble interrupted the silence, growing louder and more distinct with each passing second. You barely had time to process it before Rintaro moved, his hand suddenly gripping your arm with a firm urgency.

Rintaro pulled you down, hiding you both behind the car. You followed his lead, heart pounding in your chest as you pressed your face against his back, the creases of his shirt bundled in your palms. Crouched low, the cold pavement pressing against your knees, you watched as he cautiously peeked over the car’s hood, his eyes narrowing in concentration. The sound of engines grew louder, more ominous – like the sound of your end nearing. You dared to peek from above Rintaro’s shoulder until you could make out the distinct patterns of royal emblems on some of the vehicles, followed closely by the flashing lights of police cars.

Fear gripped at you. You could feel your heart pulsing all the way up to your tongue, your breaths coming faster as you glanced at your husband. Rintaro’s expression mirrored your panic, eyes wide and intense.

The vehicles were closing in, fast and steady, like predators hunting their prey. You both knew that your time was running out, that you were no longer Prince and Princess. Exiled. Dethroned. Hunted like the lowly criminals you both were.

Rintaro wasted no time. He yanked you up as gently as he could by your wrist, guiding you into the passenger’s seat before he slammed the door close, and hopped onto the driver’s side. His movements are frantic as he started up the car, letting the engine hum fill the vehicle. “Wear your seatbelt.”

“But Rin, you were just drunk last night–”

The engine roared to life as Rintaro slammed his foot onto the gas pedal. “I’m fine now, and I drive faster than you. You know that. Wear your seatbelt.”

The car lurched forward, tires screeching against the pavement. You felt your body press back into the seat as your heart pounded in time with the racing vehicle. The world outside blurred into a streak of colours as you shot down the road, the cool morning air rushing in through the partially open windows.

You could hear the shriek of sirens behind you, the vehicles in pursuit closing in fast.

Adrenaline surged through your veins, sharp and intoxicating, as your mind raced to keep up with the unfolding chaos. This was real. This was happening. You were no longer just royals entangled in a web of lies and deceit – you were fugitives now, running from a government that once hailed you as symbols of hope and power.

Rintaro’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he weaved through the narrow streets with a precision born of desperation. Each sharp turn sent her stomach lurching, the tires skidding dangerously close to the edges of the road. You cried out his name, and Rintaro hissed as he swerved back to safety. You could see the cityscape flashing by in jagged, disorienting bursts – the familiar landmarks rendered alien the further you flew away.

The vehicles behind you were relentless, engines howling as they sped after you with unyielding force. The sirens were deafening, mocking.

You glanced over at Rintaro, seeing the intense focus etched into his features, the slight tremor in his jaw as he pushed the car harder, faster, willing it to escape the grip of your pursuers.

The realization hit you like a physical blow – you were criminals now. Your life of luxury, of duty, and privilege, it was all over. Everything you had known, everything you had believed in, was crumbling away behind you, left in the dust of your panicked escape. There was no going back now, no return to the life you once had. You would have to leave everything behind – the Palace, the titles, your parents, Kiyoomi.

The car swerved violently as Rintaro took a sharp corner, the tires screeching as you fought for traction. The chase had spilled deeper into the outskirts of the city, where the streets were narrower, the buildings older and more decrepit. The vibrant pulse of the city was fading, giving way to a desolate stretch of road that seemed to go on forever, before it disappeared into the horizon like a thin thread of hope.

Beside you, Rintaro’s face was set in grim desperation, his eyes locked on the road ahead as the car surged forward, fuelled by the desperate need to escape. You could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken understanding between you that this was your only chance.

And with that, you accepted your fate.

This was the path you had chosen – no, the path that been forced upon you. The chase continued, the world outside becoming a blur of speed and danger. You braced yourself for whatever lay ahead, knowing that nothing would ever be the same again.

“They’re getting close,” Rintaro said through gritted teeth. One glance at the rear view mirror confirmed your worst fears; they were closing in on you, and that meant the end was nearing. You knew without a doubt that as soon as the government laid their hands on you, everything was over. Rintaro would be exiled, or worse, executed for infiltrating the sacred walls of the Palace – even if it hadn’t been his fault. And you would lose everything, everyone, that you ever cared about. You couldn’t let that happen. “Fuck! I need something to get them off my tail!”

You moved without thinking.

Reaching for the gun secretly stashed in the glove compartment, you quickly rolled the windows down, the upper half of your body carefully sliding out as you unlatched the seatbelt. “Hey!” Rintaro shouted, “What are you doing? Get back! It’s not safe!”

“I’m still the General’s daughter. They won’t shoot,” eyes narrowed, you aimed at the nearest police car who’d been hot on your heels. There was only a few inches left before they could bump into you. “But I will.”

There was no time for hesitation, no room for doubt.

The rush of the wind whipped through the car, pulling at your skin and stinging your eyes. Your finger hovered over the trigger, the world narrowing down to the police car’s tire, spinning so fast it seemed almost like a blur.

You fired.

The crack of the gunshot echoed in your years, the sound so loud it was deafening. You watched as the bullet hit its mark, the tire exploding in a burst of rubber and metal. The police car veered wildly, the driver losing control as the vehicle swerved violently across the road. Then, with a sickening lurch, it tumbled over, metal screeching against asphalt as it rolled, flipping end over end before it crashed into the guardrail. The screech of tires and the crash of metal filled the air as the cars behind it desperately slammed on their brakes, unable to avoid the wreckage. One by one, they collided, a chaotic pileup of twisted metal and broken glass until the entire road was blocked.

You slid back into your seat, your breathing ragged, your chest painfully tight.

Your hands were still shaking, the gun trembling in your grasp. Cold sweat dotted your skin, the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you stared at wreckage left behind you. The pursuing cars had been held back, unable to continue the chase.

The road was clear.

Rintaro pressed down harder on the gas, sending the car forward with renewed speed. The roar of the engine filled the car, its sound fierce and almost primal. You could feel the velocity pulling you back into your seat, your body slamming onto the leather.

As the wreckage disappeared from view, the chaotic noise behind you fading into the distance, you let out a shaky breath. You glanced down at the gun in your hands, the metal still cool against your skin despite the heat of the moment. It had been necessary, but the reality of what you had done settling heavily. You exhaled, trying to calm the trembling in your hands.

Rintaro eyed you from his seat, his jaw clenched before he glanced back at the road. “Do you know what you just did?” You nodded, tears now brimming at your lash line. “You’ve just officially declared that we’re at war with the country. They’re never going to let us go.”

“I know,” you were crying now – the tears unstoppable as you pressed your palms against your eyes. “I know.”

Rintaro was quiet for a moment. So quiet you wondered if he was still there, and he was. The tension never left his face, and he never once slowed down in his speed. But he was calmer, in some ways, his face set into a determined frown. “We can’t go back. We can’t say goodbye to anyone anymore.”

You couldn’t say goodbye to Kiyoomi.

“Where are we going, Rin?”

“Far,” was all he says, and the road that stretched before you suddenly seemed endless. “Far, far away from here where they can’t hurt you.”

“You mean us.”

“Of course,” he stole a quick glance at you, surprising you when you saw how his face had softened. Almost as if he’d already accepted that the life he’d lived was never his, and he had nothing but the future ahead of himself. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise. But if you... if you tell me to turn back, I will. I’ll find a way to get you back to Kiyoomi–”

“No,” you interjected, and Rintaro’s eyes widened. “I... I’m staying with you.”

Rintaro’s eyes scanned your face, looking for the answers. “Are you absolutely certain? You don’t have to, you know. This country can still forgive you, they can love you still–”

“I’m staying with you.”

“Okay,” he nodded, his face unreadable under the faint morning light. “Okay. It’s you and me.”

The decision to leave wasn’t easy.

It clawed at you, gnawed at the very fabric of your being, but you knew – deep down, in the place where love was both cruel and kind – that you couldn’t stay. You wanted to fight, to clear your name and prove to the world that you were innocent, to stand in front of the kingdom with your head held high. You wanted to see your parents again, feel their arms around you, hear their voices assure you that everything would be okay.

But even as these thoughts plagued your mind, they were outweighed by something stronger, something inescapable.

You thought of him – Kiyoomi, the Prince you ended up falling for. The one who’d stolen your heart, not with grand gestures, but with quiet moments, gentle touches, and promises whispered in the dark. You still remembered the warmth of being in his arms, the way he looked at you with eyes that saw through your soul, the comfort you found in his presence, and the future you’d dared imagined together. You had given him his heart when it felt all was too late, and he had given you his the moment you laid your eyes on his. Each one of you were willing to sacrifice so much for the other – it just never occurred to you that you would sacrifice Kiyoomi now.

And it hurt.

It hurt more than you could have ever imagined. The thought of leaving Kiyoomi behind, of crushing the trust he’d given you, of severing the bond you had formed – was a pain so deep it nearly made you want to ask Rintaro to turn back. At least let me say goodbye. Let me look at him one last time. You wanted to stay with him, to choose him, to finally build the life with Kiyoomi that he’d promised, but you couldn’t. He didn’t even have the littlest idea that that had been your last conversation, the last time you’d hear each other’s voices.

Because there was another man – Rintaro, your husband. The one who, despite everything, still held a huge fraction of your heart.

He was the one who needed you now, and he didn’t have anyone else. You’d seen the despair in his eyes, the loneliness that consumed him, the way his eyes didn’t quite match what he said as it held the silent please for you to not abandon him, to not cast him aside like everyone had. You knew him well enough to understand that if you left, he would disappear – not just from the world, but from life itself.

Rintaro would slip away, fade into the shadows, and you would never find him again. You couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t lose him like that.

So you chose him.

You chose to run away with him, to leave behind everything you’d known, everyone you’d loved. It was a choice born out of duty, of loyalty, and of the twisted love that still tied you to him. It was the right choice, not that it made it any easier. The ache in your heart would remain and scar you forever, haunted by the knowledge you would never see Kiyoomi again, never hold him, never tell him how much he’d meant to you.

It was a loss you would carry with you for the rest of your life.

But you couldn’t do it any other way, couldn’t have gone a different path and not think of Rintaro still. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you’d left him alone, if you let him slip away into the darkness that beckoned him. Even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness, even if it meant leaving behind the one person who’d taught you to love again. You had to choose Rintaro, even if it came with the price of letting everything else go.

So you did.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and made the choice you knew would tear you apart. You ran away. And as the world blurred around you, as you fled into the unknown, hand-in-hand with your husband, you couldn’t stop thinking of the Prince you’d left behind – the man who would always hold your heart in his hands, even if you could never return to him.

“You and me, Rin.”

[underdark-dreams]

This fic will explore the fanon of Tiefling rut/heat cycles: specifically, what happens when a stressed, overworked, sexually pent-up wizard is confronted with his own biology and his feelings about a certain hero all at once?

Thank you @rolansrighthorn for kindly beta reading this chapter!

Rolan x afab!Tav

Birds and Bees - Ch.1

The new Master of Ramazith's Tower hasn't been feeling well. Rolan isn't quite sure what's wrong with himself, but when Tav arrives back in Baldur's Gate, things get much worse.

Tags: Tiefling Ruts, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 3.4k [Read on AO3]

Rolan awoke feeling sick as a dog. 

He pulled his legs over the edge of the mattress with a wince. The dull ache in his muscles was something he hadn't felt since those first weeks on the road out of Elturel.

He'd slept like hells the past few days; no doubt that was the cause. Once again, bizarre nightmares had left him gasping awake before dawn, covered in a clammy sheen of perspiration.

The dreams featuring Tav, however…

Rolan’s tail shuddered and flicked over the bedsheets behind him at the memory. He pushed those thoughts forcefully from his head. Tav was due back in Baldur’s Gate today—that was the last thing he should be thinking of when she arrived at Sorcerous Sundries.

She’d been away for over a week this time, gathering her materials in the Underdark. He wondered if that meant she'd have enough work to keep her in the city for longer, too. The thought encouraged him enough to rise and dress for the day. He should make sure her alchemy station was prepped and ready for her at the back of the shop, at least. 

Down on the main floor of Sorcerous Sundries, Rolan’s improved mood was instantly tested. Cal took in his face wide-eyed.

“You look awful.”

“And good morning to you,” Rolan responded irritably.

“Is it?” Cal trailed after him as he unlocked and threw open the wide front doors. “Rolan, maybe you need a day off. You look like you barely slept.”

“I'm fine,” Rolan said, voice firm. “Where’s Lia?”

Right as the words left him, a teacup appeared at his elbow.

“Had a feeling you might need it,” Lia told him. “Looks like I was right.”

Too tired to combat both his siblings at once this early in the day, Rolan accepted the tea with a begrudging sigh of thanks. The smell of bitter herbs hit his nose before he took the first sip.

“Doctoring me with folk remedies now?”

Lia waved a dismissive hand as she moved behind the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we all know you'd rather get fussed over by Tav. Can't have you dragging your tail and embarrassing us in front of her, though.”

Cal walked off with a snort.

Rolan shut his eyes and wished he could return straight back to bed. Instead, he drank his tea down in silence and said a prayer for an easy day of work.

He did find himself perking up after a while. It was difficult to stay sullen on such a glorious spring day; clear sunlight streamed generously through the high windows above, and the flow of customers milling into the shop settled into a pleasant, familiar hum. Rolan fell into the rhythm of assisting them here and there, locating scrolls and giving advice on spellwork.

It certainly wasn’t the prospect of seeing Tav again that was improving his mood so much. That’s what Rolan kept telling himself, at least.

Another breeze drifted in through the open atrium behind him, bringing with it the fresh scent of spring wildflowers. Rolan was taken with a sudden fancy to move closer to wherever it emanated from.

“Lovely morning, isn't it?”

Tav stood beaming at him from the doorway, despite the full-to-bursting pack slung over one of her shoulders. Clearly he wasn’t the only one affected by the irresistibly nice weather.

“It rather is,” Rolan agreed. Ignoring her usual protests, he unshouldered the bag from her with a tug; its weight made him question whether she’d stuffed it entirely with minerals.

“Ugh…thanks.” Tav stretched her arms back appreciatively. She was wearing a lightweight tunic, carelessly laced, and the motion strained the fabric over her chest. 

Rolan averted his gaze, feeling rather warm all of a sudden. He instead led Tav back to her workstation near the stairs.

“Looks busy in here,” she remarked with approval. “Business good?”

“Can’t complain. I take it your travels were as successful?” He punctuated the comment by landing her pack on the desk with a heavy thump. Tav laughed.

“Brilliant, actually. I've got a lot to show you, if you can spare the time.”

“Just give me a few minutes,” he answered, turning back to her.

Tav didn’t reply right away; she was frowning at his face. “Rolan, are you ill? You look flushed—” And she reached a hand as if to feel his forehead.

“Of course not,” Rolan answered, a bit too swiftly. Casting for an excuse to create some distance, he moved to the nearby reference shelves and began shoving the mess of books back into their correct cubbies. “Cal, could you grab another stack of the beginner’s Weave series? We’ve sold through.”

Cal looked up from his work rolling scroll pages. “Er, sure…which wing is that again?”

“Nevermind,” Rolan sighed. “I’ll get them myself. Let me know if your station’s missing any supplies,” he added to Tav, letting his voice soften a bit. It earned him a dimpling smile.

Rolan strode away from her toward the portal, feeling that annoying ache in his legs return as he did.

—

Tav watched Rolan’s figure trudge up the staircase with another twinge of concern. Then she set to work connecting all the equipment on her alchemy station. Lia appeared at her side before long, asking after her week’s travels in the Underdark and catching her up on news and gossip from the Gate. It was so nice to have friends like Lia; ones you could pick up right where you left off with.

Tav had emptied her bag onto her desk and begun sorting the small mountain of herbs into separate piles as she listened. “How’s Rolan been doing with everything, really?”

Lia was turning over one of her shards of laculite, idly catching the sunlight in its facets. “Mostly happy. And stressed, and overextended. And completely neurotic about organizing every shelf in the library. You know, typical wizard stuff.”

“I just hope he’s looking after himself,” she said down to her work. The words left her mouth easier than she wished.

Lia leaned a hip against her desk with arms crossed. “You sound interested in helping with that.”

The quake in Tav’s stomach made her feel very caught out, then very stupid. She let out an exhale of laughter instead.

“Rolan’s made it pretty clear that he is not,” she replied. Her fingers began stripping the blooms from her pile of dried mugwort with more force than strictly necessary.

“Between you and me,” Lia mused, “I don’t think Rolan’s anywhere near clear on that subject. Smart people can be real idiots, you know.”

“Who can?”

Rolan was headed from the staircase with an armful of books; he stood behind Lia with a suspicious look. Tav immediately wondered how much he’d heard.

“Rich people,” Lia answered at once, still leaning casually against Tav’s desk. “Lady Whitburn’s handmaid keeps coming in asking for spell scrolls that I’m pretty sure don’t exist. You think she’d get the picture by now.”

Rolan let out a long-suffering sigh and held out the stack of volumes to her. “Take these. And just send Cal to help her next time, that’s why she keeps coming back.”

Lia threw up a hand as if that only proved her point. “Like I said, idiots.” But with one last glance at Tav, she grabbed the books and ferried them away to the front of Sorcerous Sundries.

For her part, Tav resumed the work of preparing the week’s ingredients—there were several large batches of antidote to get through this morning. Rolan took up his usual spot at the desk in her periphery. 

Ever since the first week he’d offered Sorcerous Sundries to her as a home of operations for her alchemy, Tav found herself spending many hours at work beside Rolan like this. They spent the time talking about her travels, or his latest studies with the Weave, or just discussing the last books they’d read. On busier days, he was called away to help customers for most of her visit.

Today, however, Rolan stood unusually silent next to her.

“Sure you’re feeling all right?” She glanced at his back, again noting the tense line of his shoulders.

“Just a bit tired.” Rolan tipped open his massive record of the shop figures. “Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I could make you something for that, if you like.”

He gave a low huff of laughter as he took up his quill. “From what I hear from my customers, I’d be out cold for days.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help a grin of professional pride, but focused on adjusting the flame under her distilling glass. “Glad they’re selling well.”

“I can barely keep them on the shelves, especially those remedial draughts you make. The last batch lasted three days.”

Though it was satisfying to hear, Tav felt a bit chagrined. “Damn…won’t have more of those for a while. I still need to track down a new materials trader in the Gate. My usual guy moved on to Neverwinter.”

There was a short pause in their little corner, filled only with the sounds of softly bubbling liquid against glass.

“You know,” Rolan said without turning, “you’re welcome to stay here, if it’s easier for you. The guest room’s always empty. That is, so you wouldn’t have to travel across the city on top of finding your new contact.”

“Oh—” Tav tried hard not to read anything into his offer. “Actually, I already left my things with Danis and Bex. But thank you, Rolan,” she added.

Rolan coughed lightly, back still turned. “Of course.” 

There was another pause, longer and strangely awkward. Tav suddenly found she needed something more to occupy her thoughts than watching a flask boil. Reaching down for her pack, she pulled her research journal up to the desk.

It had been many weeks since Rolan brought up that subject. Why now?

Cal and Lia constantly reminded her of the long-standing offer of a room in the Tower anytime she had need of it. For unspoken reasons, she’d always found polite ways of declining.

It wasn’t that Rolan had made her feel unwelcome in any way. After all, he’d opened up the expansive resources of Ramazith’s Tower to her use, lending her all of the delicate and expensive alchemy equipment that she’d never be able to cart back and forth in her travels. She owed much of her current success to his generosity.

But Rolan had proven himself a generous patron for all kinds of arcane arts as Master of Ramazith’s Tower. Really, what made her think she was any kind of special case?

The fact that she’d very much like to be that to him…well.

That was something Tav tried not to think about. It only led her to dangerous territory, such as staring at his hands while he worked a spell and wondering what else they might be good for. Hardly conducive to a friendly, professional relationship. 

And if she was any good at reading signals, friendly but professional was how Rolan wanted to keep things.

Tav shuffled through her notes a bit too briskly and almost scattered them. That was enough dwelling on that subject; clearly, Rolan had plenty to think about without worrying about unwanted advances in his own home. The least she could do to repay his generosity would be to continue respecting his boundaries.

“Noblestalk propagation?”

She glanced over her shoulder. To her surprise, Rolan had moved closer to peer down at the top page in her hands with curiosity.

“Most valuable thing in the Underdark,” she told him. “Even more than mithril. Actually, this is what I wanted to show you—”

Noblestalk fetched a high price for its alchemical power, certainly, but also for its rarity. The delicate mushrooms were notoriously picky about where they grew; it was part of what made them so hard to find. 

Truth be told, she’d been running a little experiment on them down in the Underdark over the past few months. She ran a finger across the charted results as she explained them to Rolan, whose tension seemed to vanish as he listened on with keen interest.

“Obviously the spores took faster in high humidity. But look, they actually did better when I transplanted them in a really cold spot near the river here—which is so odd, most fungi need a bit of warmth—

“Have you tried recreating these artificially? Carrying a sample back to the surface?”

“Not yet.” She scratched her chin in thought. “I’d need to find somewhere underground to propagate it. And I’d rather not spend any more time in the sewers, after that little cult business.”

“Just do it here,” Rolan dismissed, as if it was the plainly obvious solution. “We’ve got quite a few empty vaults now. Shouldn’t be too hard to repurpose one as a greenhouse of sorts.”

As she turned her head to respond, she was caught up short. 

Rolan was still peering intently at her writing. But in his concentration, he’d angled his body very close beside her. His chest nearly brushed her shoulder. She could’ve counted the freckles dusting his nose.

When he reached forward to flip over the page, she felt his other hand actually rest on the far side of her waist—the absent way you might touch someone very familiar to you when moving past them. Heat rose in her cheeks at the gesture.

Perhaps Rolan felt her tense. He blinked, and she watched realization dart over his features. He stepped back at once.

“Apologies.” Then he cleared his throat to add—“Your work is quite engaging.”

Coming from him, the words sounded much nicer than they had a right to. She felt her flush deepening, and quickly turned back to reorder her notes. 

“Thanks,” she laughed, praying it didn’t sound as awkward as it felt rising in her throat.

Behind her back, she heard Rolan return to his desk on her left. Presumably continuing his work on the Sundries inventory; more likely trying to ignore her obvious fluster. 

She clenched her jaw in an attempt to shove that same stupid, fluttery feeling out of her stomach, and returned to the practical work at hand. 

—

Rolan stared down at last week’s sales in his ledger. The figures were a blur of meaningless scribbles in front of his eyes.

Was he feverish? Seriously ill? There had to be a sound explanation for the way he’d just…laid hands on her like that, unthinking. 

He clenched the guilty right hand responsible, feeling its sharp nails press crescent moons into his palm. Idiot. He took a deep breath to regain his composure. 

It only caused that lovely wildflower scent from before to fill his lungs more completely, pulling at his other senses. Perhaps it was emanating from one of the many strange ingredients Tav was always carrying back from the Underdark. Was that what had muddled his mind this way?

He found himself glancing back over his shoulder to where she was bent over her alchemy scales. The pink tip of her tongue was visible between her teeth, a gesture she often made when concentrating.

As Rolan watched, a lock of her hair slipped forward over her shoulder. She swept it absently back behind her ear. The innocuous motion caused another wave of something floral to brush past his face, stronger this time.

“Are you wearing scent?”

Tav glanced up from the powder she was weighing out, brows raised in question. “What?”

“Nothing,” Rolan said swiftly, shaking himself back to rights a bit. He felt very lucky she seemed to have misheard. He turned back to his work before he could say anything else strange or embarrassing.

With effort, Rolan forced his attention back to the comforting logic of sums and figures. 

The time passed with blessed uneventfulness after that. The soft sounds of glassware and bubbling liquids from Tav’s alchemy faded to an idle lull at the back of Rolan’s consciousness. Nevertheless, he pushed through the past month’s numbers with more difficulty than usual, scratching through multiple errors as his quill moved over the page. He occasionally had to pause to rub at an uncomfortable crick building in his neck.

A laugh came from behind him. “Do you mind?”

Rolan raised his head to look. Tav was gesturing at the corner of her alchemy station with a bemused expression. 

To his own confusion, he found that his tail had traveled there of its own accord sometime in the past minutes. It lay coiled on the wood, its tip flicking back and forth in her direction, as if seeking her attention.

With another chuckle, Tav’s fingers closed around it and lightly dropped the appendage off the edge of her desk.

An involuntary sound caught in Rolan’s throat. The moment her hand connected with his skin, a shock of blood rushed to his groin. He nearly tipped forward in alarm at the feeling.

The rapid redirection left his legs wobbling and bloodless. His knees almost buckled under him; he gripped sharp claws into the edge of his wooden desk to steady himself. 

As the ringing in his ears cleared, he heard Tav reading under her breath behind him while she ground something against her mortar. Praise the gods that whatever just happened to his body had escaped her notice.

“Need a book from the library—”

Without a backward glance, Rolan stumbled toward the stairs.

Spurred on by the knowledge that any customers who might notice his urgent departure would certainly see the reason for it, he strode on double-time for the portal. Only once the swirl of Weave closed behind him, depositing him in the quiet of the Tower, did he release the breath caught up in his lungs.

Seeking to ground himself, Rolan glanced up to watch the golden dust motes drift through a beam of sunlight. It was the strangest sensation to be standing completely still and feel a sweat break out over his brow.

How did he not realize days ago? Muscle aches—difficulty sleeping—heightened senses. All clear indicators that his biology had finally caught up with him, albeit a solid year later than it should have.

Rolan gripped a hand to the back of his head with a groan of realization. Not perfume—it had been Tav herself he kept catching scent of this morning. That sweet smell that practically made his mouth water to recall now was nothing but raw instinct laid bare.

Well, he had no right to complain about the timing. Apparently many frantic months of escaping the Hells, surviving on the road, and battling back an invasion from the Astral Plane had done a lot to delay the inevitable. 

But inevitable it was, and as of today, very much inescapable. There was never really a convenient time for this sort of thing, was there?

It could be worse—as the new keeper of Ramazith’s Tower, at least he found himself with private quarters to retreat to for the entirety of it. If he was lucky, it would all be over in a week, and then he could go on ignoring this unfortunate side effect of his Infernal heritage for a few more uneventful years. 

Lia and Cal could manage the shop for a week without any major calamities, surely?

As Rolan paced the silk carpets of the Tower floor, he forced his feverish mind to finish scrabbling together the plan. His gaze fell on the desk by the window. In the next second, he was putting shaking quill to parchment. Something simple, just enough they’d understand—

Bad week for visitors. Please mind the Sundries while I recover. Tell Tav 

The tip of his quill skipped as he paused, letting a droplet of ink bleed into the page. 

Tell Tav what, exactly? That he was in his room rutting his brains out like an animal in heat? Likely thinking of her while he did?

That line of thought brought a series of unhelpful and very stimulating images to mind. He swallowed down a humiliating sound as the stiffness between his legs grew painfully hard in reaction. Merciful, bloody hells.

Tell Tav nothing, he finished in a scrawl. Rolan folded the note and deposited it on the floor just in front of the portal, where it would be impossible for his siblings to miss. 

Then he turned for the staircase to his bedroom, already mad to rip these chafing gods-damned robes off his skin.

[honeybeedrabble]

can i get a shikamaru x reader, where they are on a mission together to the sand village and perhaps only one bed 😈😈 (also include gaara if u can i love sand emos) - also only one tent and pillow wall

MDNI 18+

OMG. THIS !!!! mission sex? probably the hottest sex. at least for shinobi. something about shikamaru improperly using shadow paralysis while the Kazekage feels you up in his office 😳😳

CW: AFAB reader x shikamaru x gaara, somnophilia, mission sex, only one tent, only one sleeping bag, handjob, cum eating (?), eiffel tower, MFM threesome, improper use of shadow possession, pet names, unprotected piv (don’t be stupid), cream pie (don’t be stupid), oral (m receiving) lmk what else lol

September 22. It was September 22, Shikamaru’s 19th birthday and yet he was summoned by the Hokage for a mission. Sure, he could’ve just declined, everyone told him to anyways, but Shikamaru knew some things had to be done. And yeah, he complained the whole time that it was ‘a drag to work on his birthday’ but with his wallet running slimmer by the day, a low risk mission to the hidden sand didn’t seem like the worst idea for a couple ryō. He figured he’d throw a bigger belated birthday party after he got paid so to him it was whatever.

When he was summoned to the Hokages quarters and saw that he wouldn’t be alone, but instead paired up with you? Oh baby… it was a win-win for Shikamaru all around. The mission itself was easy, travel to the hidden sand, deliver a few scrolls and plant a few medicinal herbs native to konoha. Since the war has been passed for a few years, the allied nations don’t seem to have any animosity towards each other and the path ahead should be clear.

It didn’t take long for you two to head out, traveling west to the village. You hadn’t exactly come prepared, telling Shikamaru that you had already been assigned for this mission before he had so you had only packed one tent and one sleeping bag. Luckily you had enough hindsight to see you might have some food or water shortages, especially in the desert heat, and rations weren’t an issue.

When traveling, Shikamaru told you to lead the way so he could keep a better eye on you. But to be honest, he was just staring at your ass the whole time, watching your hips sway side to side after each step you took. It caught him off gaurd when you turned you head to speak to him.

“Hey, isn’t it your birthday?” you asked, ignoring the feeling you thought you caught him staring at your ass (you did).

“Yeah, why’d you ask?”

“I dunno, I guess never took you for the type to not celebrate your birthday.” You replied with a shrug. Shikamaru raised a brow.

“ What d’you mean?”

“Well I mean… going on a three day mission to the hidden sand and back doesn’t quite strike me as a celebration,” you said with a laugh. Shikamaru chuckled.

“I guess you’re right. It is a real drag having to do this but I need the money anyways. Besides, if I didn’t come you’d be out here all by yourself, who’d protect you then?” He smirked. You blushed, shrugging off your flustered reaction with an eye roll.

“Pft, maybe someone who brought their own sleeping bag,” you teased.

“Touché. But you have to admit, the company’s nice.”

“It is... Happy birthday, Shikamaru.”

“Thanks.”

______________________________________________

You two had somehow traveled a little ways past the halfway point, and you could tell by how late it was partnered with how tired you felt. After a long dinner of canned soup, protein bars, jerky and dried fruit you had pulled out the tent. Snapping each piece together with a small click each time. You threw the cover on and tucked in the corners, zipping the tents zippers in place before unzipping and crawling in. Once you were in you rolled out your sleeping bag.

“Do you want to share?” You asked, unzipping the zipper and opening up the bag. Shikamaru was slightly taken aback and shook his head.

“No it’s fine, s’my fault I didn’t pack a bag, I don’t want to inconvenience you.” He said, laying down on the grass. You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“It’s big enough for the both of us, trust me I’ve had to do this on a few missions before. Nothing I’m not used to.” You reassured, laying down inside. You motioned with your hands for him to come inside and he let out a small huff.

“Fine, but only cause you wore me down.” He said, trying to hide his excitement.

He crawled into the tent, immediately he could tell how much warmer it was with you. Shikamaru got in next to you and zipped the bag up behind him. He nestled closer to you and you flipped on your side facing away from him, and he settled in against your back in the snug sleeping bag.

“I’m sorry about your birthday,” you said, still facing away. His head sunk lower near yours.

“Don’t worry. It’s going a lot better than I thought it was,” he said low and sleepy.

You had fallen asleep pretty fast, he could tell because of the soft, steady breaths you took besides him. While you were happily sleeping, you didn’t anticipate occasionally grinding into him. The push of your ass was enough to keep Shikamaru awake, and he couldn’t help himself from sleepily grinding into you. When you stirred for a moment Shikamaru stilled immediately, his heart pounding out of his chest. When he heard your sleepy sighs and breaths he went back to his prior movements.

He continued to press himself against you, moving when you did. The curve of your ass hugging the outline of his dick euphorically. However, the pleasure was subsided by his need for sleep and his hips stopped meeting yours in an attempt to save energy. He realized most of the grinding was on his part and not yours, when he stopped you had. Slowly he drifted off, fighting the urge to not jerk himself off under your shared sleeping bag while you dreamt.

_______________________________________________

The second day you two had decided to take things easier and walk half of the time rather than run. While you were leading, Shikamarus gaze felt hungrier. Everytime you looked back, his eyes lingered on your ass far too long to be a coincidence. You had a feeling yesterday, but today had confirmed your suspicions.

“So, what are you planning on doing when you get home?” You asked him, turning your head to look at him. His eyes lingered on your ass for a few seconds shamelessly before snapping up and meeting yours.

“I’m going straight home, I’ve got something in mind,” he said, his lips curling into a small smirk. You were confused.

“What do you mean? Are you gonna have the party at your house?” You asked. Shikamaru let out a small laugh, his hand reaching down to adjust his crotch, his semi hard on making itself present.

“Sure, I guess I can call it a party. But it’s gonna be a party of just myself, unless you wanted to join me?” His eyes had gotten darker and filled with lust as they returned to your ass. You felt your face heat and you felt naked under Shikamarus gaze.

“Um… sure. We can have a small party before everyone gets there. You said you wanted it at your house?” You asked, trying desperately to get his attention. He looked up at your again, his hand adjusting his pants again.

“More specifically my bedroom,” he whispered coming up behind you. He brushed the back of his hand against your ass before passing you and taking the lead himself with you to follow.

____________________________________________________________

That night when sleeping with Shikamaru in the tent under your sleeping bag, Shikamaru was a mess. He spent 24 hours sexually frustrated, all while he was alone with you. He was a wreck and couldn't help himself to the cruve of your ass for a second night. He was sure you were alseep, but he didn't care if you werent.

He wrapped his arms around you, mercilessly grinding himself into your hips while you stirred underneath him. You couldn't fall back asleep with his movements and you were so turned on it was almost painful. You could feel yourself drenched with arousal as he abused your ass cheeks with his hard cock. You didn't know if you should pretend to be asleep or rock your hips into him and risk him stopping.

Shikamaru was animalistic, growling and whimpering into your ear as his arms flexed around your core, and you couldn't pretend for any longer. You smashed yourself into his groin, grinding pleasantly against his dick. An arm came out from its grip on your waist and gripped your wrist tightly. He unbuckled his pants with the other and brought your hand down to his boxers, where he palmed himself with your hand.

You couldn't help but gasp lightly, feeling how large he swelled under your touch. He hissed as your fingers traced the outline, then shoved his boxers aside for his dick to spring out. He guided your hand to his dick, where you reached out for his tip. He let out a shaky exhale as you smeared his precum around his angry tip, dragging the liquid arousal down his shaft and back up. He groaned in your ear, fucking your fist from behind as you lay at your side.

"Shit- you've got some soft hands." He let out between breaths, slowing his pace to feel every crease of your palm wrapped around his cock.

He picked up his pace, suddenly feeling too crazed with lust to savor your touch. He reached under you, pulling your other arm behind you to add to his pleasure. You whined, rubbing your thighs together sleepily for any friction you could get, the stitch of your pants working just enough to have you craving more. You closed your eyes, imagining how his cock looked soaking wet with his own precum as you jerked him off, his heavy, euphoric breaths mixing with the squelch of your grip on his shaft.

You pumped upwards, your thumb circling his drooly tip and he whined bucking himself into your finger.

"Ah- fuckkk. Do that again. Get as much as you can and slather it over my cock." he instructed, his voice straining. You did, dragging his precum and coating his shaft with the liquid. His breath hitched for a second, grapsing your hands from behind you and cupping them together in front of his tip.

"Fuck-Fuck-Fuck," He moaned heavily, grasping his dick and angrilly pumping it with his own hands. "Ngh- fuck. ahhh..." He spilled his thick ropes into your hands, the ribbons full and heavy. As soon as he finished cumming he dragged his dick into the cupped seed, fucking your hands one last time before putting himself away.

"Eat up," he smirked, whispering in your ear lazily. He fell asleep soon after and you wiped your hands off on your pants with your inner thigh. You licked a finger, tasting his cum and felt hornier than ever. You had to go to sleep that night without touching yourself, not wanting to get his leftover cum inside of you.

__________________________________________________________

The next morning morning neither of you spoke about the previous night. Shikamaru was internally cursing himself for being so unprofessional and letting his perversions get to him. You however, were craving more. You didn’t get to see him that night, how his eyebrows knotted and his eyes pinched shut as his mouth fell open letting out pleasurable moans while cumming several roles into your palms. You thought about it a lot and by the time you two reached the hidden sand you were soaking.

These scrolls were important and by no means was anyone allowed to open or read the contents inside. In order to prevent any curious eyes, you and Shikamaru were ordered to deliver them to the Kazekage himself. When you entered the building the Kazekag was sat at his desk, the room empty as he awaited your arrival.

“Ah, the hidden leaf shinobi. I take it that the journey was easy?” He asked.

“Yeah, the way over wasn’t too bad, Lord Gaara.” Shikamaru said, stepping in with you to follow, closing the door behind you.

“Thats a relief, I’m aware that your birthday was two days ago so I apologize for the abrupt mission. And please Shikamaru, no reason to be so formal with such an old friend.” Gaara said with a small smile. Shikamaru nodded. “And hello to you too,” Gaara said, switching the conversation towards you. You smile.

“Hello, Lord Gaara! It’s nice seeing you again. I wish it was under different circumstances though, with the journey back we’ll have to get on our way soon.” You sigh sadly.

“Now now, no need to rush. I haven’t seen you in a while, why don’t you sit down? I missed you.” Gaaras voice was lower, his eyes gently looking into yours. You felt hot suddenly, and definitely didn’t want to act weird around the Kazekage. You needed some air.

“Um, sure. Sorry, I’ll be back I just need some air.” You said, fanning yourself. You spun around and headed for the door when suddenly your body froze in place. You grunted trying to move your legs when you watched thick, black stripes make their way up your legs. Your eyes widened, turning you head behind you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Shikamaru asked demandingly, his eyes narrowed looking at yours. Shadow paralysis. He walked up to you and turned you around, still stuck in his jutsu.

“What are you doing, Captain?” you whined, looking back at the men in front of you. Shikamaru wandered behind you, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

“Fuck- I’ve been thinking about this all mission. That handy you gave me last night isn’t nearly enough, I need you.” he breathed heavy into your skin. You felt your body shake, a vibration sent down your spine as Shikamaru nibbled gently on your delicate skin. You watched through half lidded eyes as Gaara approached you, his hands sliding between your shirt and vest and he slid the vest off- it hit the floor with a light thud.

“I haven’t seen you in months,” He whispered, grabbing your waist and rubbing small circles with his thumbs. “I almost forgot how you felt,” He added. Gaara grabbed the end of your shirt, pulling it over your head slowly and watching as your skin started to reveal itself under the lifted fabric. As he tossed the garment to the floor, Shikamaru was quick to undo your bra clasps, pushing the straps off your shoulders as the underwear landed on your shirt and vest on the ground.

“So beautiful,” Gaaras eyes were blown and dark, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into him. His head dipped down to your tits, popping a hardened nipple into his mouth and rolling it between his tongue. You couldn’t help but let out a soft breath, still unable to move the paralysis placed on you. You tried struggling with the jutsu, yet ultimately unable to undo yourself from Shikamarus power.

He grabbed your head and pulled it to the side, then pulled himself into your lips, crashing into you with a messy kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your cunt already wet with arousal as Gaara fondled your other fit in his hand. Shikamaru was able to silence your moans with his tongue as it lazily lapped at yours slowly and softly. He opened his mouth and a trail of spit connected you two together.

“Goddamn, you make me crazy. I ought to bend you over that desk and take you for myself.” Shikamaru said, grabbing a fistful of your ass. You whined, the feeling of his shadow around you tightening.

“Don’t be selfish. You can have her all you want back at the leaf, I don’t have that luxury,” Gaara said, popping your tit out of his mouth with a pop. “Ngh- I want to touch you… be inside you… taste you… I have to have you, beautiful. Right on my desk.” Gaara picked you up, Shikamarus shadow possession allowing you to wrap your legs around him.

He brought you to his desk, Shikamaru standing in front of it with you and Gaara behind. You felt the jutsu gently leave, allowing you to move better. You bent of the desk, Gaaras chest pressed against your back as his hands trailed down your stomach down to your core. He unbuttoned you pants from the back, grabbing the zipper and slowly pulling it down. He then lifted off of you and pulled your pants and panties off together. He whimpered softly as he watched your slick covered underwear fall down your thighs. You stepped out of your pants, naked and splayed out on the desk, shaking gently in arousal.

“I knew it, you were wet,” Gaara groaned, palming his erection through his pants. Shikamaru smirked, undoing his pants and sliding them half way down his thighs. You reached for his boxers, grabbing his waistband and freeing his hard cock. You whined in excitement, pleased by the sight of his hard dick already wet with precum.

Gaara thrusted his clothed dick into your wet cunt, you breathed deeply, tossing your head back to look back at him. He backed off just to undo his own pants, freeing his own sizable dick. You watched as he rubbed the head of his cock against your wet entrance and you both moan in need. He pushed slightly in, you moaned heavily as you felt him part you in half, his thick cock already nudging a spongy spot inside of you. He pushed the rest of his length in and bottomed out inside of you with a raspy groan.

Shikamaru was getting impatient, gliding his hand up and down his girthy length. He positioned his head at your opened mouth and you accepted his angry red tip with gratitude. He hisses in delight, his fingers digging into your hair as your slid him down your throat until he hit the back. You gagged around his length, then slowly released him, grabbing his dick and licking his tip to taste his salty precum, remembering what little you tasted last night.

“You look so beautiful with dick in your mouth. Ngh- feel so warm… so wet… Ahh, I can’t help myself.” Gaara huffed out, slowly sliding out of you before roughly thrusting himself into you again. You moaned around Shikamarus cock, slick running down your thighs as the momentum pushed you further down Shikamarus shaft. Shikamaru winced, his grip on your hair loosening.

“Sucking dick like a natural, I don’t even think I need to put in any work,” He smirked, resting his hand on the back of your head as Gaara stuffed you full of his rock-hard cock. He stuffed you roughly with a tight grip on your hips, you chocking on Shikamarus cock as he gasped in delight.

“Good girl,” Shikamaru praised, running a hand through your hair. You eyes watered as you looked up at him through your lashes, grabbing onto his thighs.

“So tight.. Oh fuuck you’re running down my thighs. Ahhh, beautiful girl, I’m going to miss this pussy,”Gaara grunted, pistoning you full with each snap of his hips. You drooled down Shikamarus cock, your jaw sore from his jolting thrusts inside you mouth. You tan your tongue up and down, tracing a vein that ran along his shaft as his precum continued to fill your mouth.

“Good girl, sucking me like a perfect cock whore. Shit… I’m almost there baby.” Shikamaru stifled, his hips gently thrusting into the back of your throat. You whined around his length, wishing that the pleasure would never end, regardless of your own high quickly approaching.

“Go ahead, love. Cum on this dick. I want to see you choke on his dick as you choke my cock,” Gaara lewdly growled, thirsting into you faster. Shikamaru groaned deeply as you moaned, the vibrations of your throat stimulating him in a new way as he came several ropes into your mouth. You tried swallowing each mouthful as you clenched around Gaaras cock, pulsing around him as warm, salty cum was poured down your throat.

“Fuuuck! Ahh- oh god… Your mouth is so good, you did so good.” Shikamaru praises, bending down to your level and holding your face in his hands as Gaara continues to sloppily fuck you. Shikamaru kissed you, sliding his tongue back into your mouth and tasting himself on your lips. You moan in his mouth still cumming around Gaara as his grip on your hips tighten.

“Ohhh… Yes! Almost, almost- I’m almost there. You’re s-so good,” Gaara breathed. “Cum with me,” Gaara said, hitting your spots just right. Your core aches as you came undone on his Kazekage desk, Shikamaru kissing you all over as Gaara pummeled you and then stilled, cumming deep inside of your pulsating cunt.

“Fuck! T-Thank you, Lord Gaara!” You cried into Shikamarus mouth, your legs shaking as the man behind you overstimulated you into a moaning puddle. Shikamaru planted one last kiss on your lips before he stood up and tucked himself away into his pants. Gaara lay ontop of you, occasionally pushing himself into you as he slowly softened until he pulled out, his cum spilling onto your naked thighs. He kissed the nape of you neck deeply, then stood up and pulled back up his boxers and pants.

You lie there fucked out and stupid, Shikamaru and Gaara exchanged scrolls while Shikamaru went digging through your bag for medicinal herbs that you brought with you.

“Excuse me, Shikamaru?” Gaara asked, completely ignoring the fact you were still naked and shuddering on his desk. Shikamaru raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?” He asked.

“I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday one last time,” Gaara smiled. Shikamaru stifled a laugh.

“Thanks, I think this might’ve been my best birthday so far.” He smirks, his gaze landing on you. You whimpered in embarrassment, still naked as the men in front of you softly embraced you in their stares.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

I'll Crawl Home To Her

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Summary: Simon is away on a mission and you are on his mind. Having to extend his stay, he is going to miss Valentine's day, but coming across a recent trend on TikTok, he may have a way to say just how much you mean to him.

***So, this came from the TikTok trend I came across of military guys posting pics of their girlfriends/wives/fiancees/etc. to the song Work Song by Hozier and I wanted Simon to do it too for you. So here it is! Just a little something extra***

***Pictures are made by me***

Simon can’t sleep, again. 

It’s been a while that his team has been in the field on their current mission and though he knows he should focus on the task at hand, there is so much on his mind tonight. Even though he is tired, he cannot seem to get himself to drift off. There is something missing, or more like someone, that he wishes to be beside right now and that is you.

He feels guilty about still being gone as he should be in by now, just in time for Valentine's day, but that isn’t happening anymore. Things on this latest mission are taking longer than expected and instead of packing up to come home to you, he had to have that hard phone call to tell you that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. In that call he heard it there in your voice: that twinge of sadness that you always try to mask through hopeful and kind words, holding back the crackle in your voice as you choke back the tears in hopes that he won't hear it, but he does. He always does.

As much as he loves his job he is ready to be back with you again and hearing that does not make it any easier. 

The dark surrounds him as Simon lays in his cot, trying to numb his mind with his phone propped up in his hand, hopeful that with enough distraction sleep will eventually take him. He knows there is no better way to keep his mind from wandering back to those things he cannot change than by idly watching short content videos and he knows just where to go for that. He clicks on the TikTok app and begins to watch. 

Scrolling through the drivel and waste, past people spewing their nonsense, a video comes across his feed that instantly brings you right back to the forefront of his thoughts. The first slide is a picture of a young man in his fatigues and tactical gear smiling at the camera. He is clearly in the field on active duty and there is text across him that repeats the lyrics of the song playing. His picture is followed by a slide with what Simon assumes is his wife with the next bit of lyrics over her. It looks like a new trend amongst military personnel on the app, a tribute to the ones they are going to come home to in the future: children, pets, significant others, family. 

The song tugs at his heartstrings from the moment it begins; it's one he hasn't heard before, but the lyrics make his heart ache and his arms feel so incredibly empty without the weight of your body filling them as the singer speaks about how even in death they would find their way home to the one they love.

And fuck if that isn't something he thinks about a lot. 

It is a burden of this type of job, leaving all part of his heart behind back home every time he has to go out. He knows this lifestyle isn’t easy on either of you, that even though you’ve been together for a couple years now, having him constantly be pulled across the world and away from you still has a certain bite to it. Yet with all that stacked against your relationship, not once have you ever been anything other than supportive. Standing beside him through it all, constantly choosing to give him your heart no matter how hard this gets, loving him through the all the shit that gets thrown his way; if there is anyone his soul would seek out even in death, it would be you. 

He clicks on the sound at the bottom of the screen with a lump welling in his throat and starts to watch more videos of the same. One video turns into two and then three and now his heart is aching something fierce, like a physical burning in the center of his hardened chest that he tries to rub away with his hand, but he knows it's not going to go until he's near you again.

This longing is worse than it has ever been before. He misses your touch, all that soft, warm skin under his hardened hands; he misses your laugh, that sweet sound that can make the sunshine come out even on a rainy day; he yearns for your mouth, those full lips that he can lose himself in. It's almost too much to bear being away from you at that moment.

Simon was never one for big displays of sentimentality. No one ever seemed worth breaking down those walls that he had built up to allow himself to be vulnerable in such a public way like that. It never seemed worth the sacrifice. And for a long time, no matter who he met, that was true…until you.

You broke the mold when you came into his life. Now his heart can't help but burst at the seams whenever you pop into his head. He could be a thousand miles away from you, stuck in some hot, miserable shithole in the middle of nowhere, like he is right now, and yet the moment he thinks of you it doesn't seem quite so bad. 

Because he knows there is a piece of heaven waiting for him, something wonderful that is all his that the struggle of his other life will not touch, not if he has anything to do with it.

Simon may have to miss being there on the day when people show their loved ones how much they care, but that doesn’t mean he can do nothing. As the videos continue to play, he gets an idea, one that will hopefully show you just how much he really does care. 

As much as you go on the app, he is sure you have seen a video or two like this come across your scrolling. You have probably sat there and watched just as he did, thinking about him being so far away, missing him something terrible. Maybe you would like to see him make a video like that for you. Either way, this is something he wants to do, needs to do.

Simon has no pictures of just himself on his phone, none without you in them, and so that’s his first order if he wants to do this right. He tries to do the easy thing the next day and take a selfie, but he can’t get one that looks good enough for him to keep. The more he takes, the worse he thinks they look and that means he is going to have to get help whether he wants to or not, otherwise he is going to back out of doing this and he’s not going to let that happen. 

This is for you after all, he needs it to be perfect. You deserve that.

He decides his best bet is wrangling Soap into doing this for him; at least he is the most comfortable asking the sergeant. “Johnny, I need ya to do somethin’ for me,” Simon says as the team stands around awaiting transport into the designated location. “Don’t ask any fuckin’ questions, but I need ya to take a picture a me real quick.”

“Wanna do a beauty shoot here, L.T.? Seems a bit of a strange location,” Johnny jokes as Simon pulls out his phone from his pocket and shoves it into the sergeant’s open hand. Johnny watches him for a moment, taking a guess at what this is all really about. “Or is it for yer lass back home? Gonna send her somethin’ nice?”

Shaking his head, Simon laughs sarcastically. “Just take the damn picture, yeah? An’ make it look good. I want it ta look natural.”

This isn’t something the masked officer has much experience in and so posing is out; he instead goes for something where it looks like he is caught unaware that he’s being photographed. He’s looking off in the distance, his hand wrapped around his gun so they don’t just hang awkwardly at his side. Johnny quickly snaps the pic and hands the phone back to Simon to check. 

“That’ll do,” he says under his breath, satisfied enough with how it looks.

That night as he lays down for bed, he quickly pieces the video together: first his photo and then he needs one of you. He opens his camera roll and it is absurd how many different ones he has saved. There are so many to choose from that he has a hard time picking the perfect one, but settles on something recent. 

It’s one of you in the bathroom of your apartment, all cozy in the striped jumper he got you for your birthday. Your hair is pulled down out of the bun you keep it in for work, a bit messy from just getting in after you got off. Never has he seen someone more beautiful in such a simple state; you always could look like a dream without even trying. And even through your exhaustion you still give the camera and him the biggest, brightest smile. 

Yeah, it has to be this one. This is the beauty he does all this for.

Luckily it is a rather simple video to put together, he doesn’t have too much trouble getting it to look exactly like the others. He has to watch and rewatch it several times just to be sure he is happy with the product before he hits upload to his followers only. Being that you are the only person that follows him, that is exactly what he wants; he may have to be a bit secretive for work, but that doesn’t mean he can’t try and give you some normalcy.

To him you deserve the world and fuck if he isn’t going to try and give it to you.

He presses the button, the uploading dial in the upper hand corner spinning until it reaches 100%, and waits to see if you get it, hoping that it has the effect he wants in saying all he needs to for you to know how special you are to him.

Across the country, your phone buzzes with a random notification as you lay in bed. It's from Simon's account on TikTok saying he's made a new post. You can’t help how strange you think it is… He never posts anything on his account because he really only made one for you to send him stupid videos to watch whenever he needs to unwind and so it takes you by surprise to see that he has posted something. Opening the app curiously you go straight to check out what it is.

You are not prepared for the emotion that hits you the moment the video starts to play. It’s one of those military posts you have come across a couple of times while scrolling late at night, the ones that you have to quickly scroll past or risk crying at how sweet they are and how much they make you miss Simon. Now the heartfelt Hozier song is blasting through the speakers and it is for you.  

The sentiment behind the lyrics of the song mixed with the picture of him on his latest mission is almost too much. And of course he has picked the picture of you looking all natural, it’s like he can’t get enough of you when you don’t even try at all. You know better than anyone how Simon despises having his picture taken if it isn’t with you, so this a huge sign of just how deeply he cares. Instantly there is a stinging around the rims of your eyes as your vision shimmers. You let the video replay several times as the stray tears are let loose and stream heavily down your face.

Simon did this all for you.

Quickly you pull up your texting app and send him a message, hoping he’s still up to at least answer. You have to rub your eyes with the back of your hand to see the screen, but you type out your message as best you can.

I want you to know I'm crying right now because of you. Is that what you wanted? Make me something that has me crying?

A few minutes pass before your phone buzzes with a text from him, just as you finish wiping away more of the tears collecting on your cheeks. 

Guess you saw the video, yeah? I hope I did it right, sweetheart. Cause I fucking mean it.

You chuckle, swallowing down the lump of feelings that have lodged themselves in your throat, struggling not to start sobbing at how his sweet affection. Of all the things that could be said about Simon Riley, one that could never was that he didn't try his hardest when it came to loving you.

The emotion makes your hands quiver, but you text him back.

It is perfect, Simon. I love it. Really, you did so good.

Simon smiles to himself, glad that your deep connection allows him to share things like this with you. There is no one else that can see him like this, that he can allow his guard down around, and it feels nice to be this tender for the first time in his life. He truly feels as if he can be vulnerable, let himself love with his whole heart, and it is all because of you.

Maybe I'm going soft, but I wanted you to know that I am missing you like mad and that I hate I’m not there with you right now. Fuck, it's getting hard. Can't wait till you're back in my arms again, darling.

You close your eyes and press your lips to the screen as if he can feel your kiss through the screen.

Love you.

Not even a minute passes and the phone vibrates.

Love you too, my beautiful girl. I promise I'll be home soon.

[yoongiseesawmp3]

anything but - jeonghan

summary: roommate!jeonghan. you thought living with your best friend, jeonghan, would be easy. fun. like a sleepover every night. but as he watches you struggle week in and week out with crushes that don't like you back or dates that never seem to go well, he decides to take matters into his own hands.

word count: 8.2k

warnings: none rly, afab reader, unedited, sry

masterlist

jeonghan is ready to go to sleep. he had a long day, followed by a good, but tiring, night with friends, and he's been thinking about his soft sheets for the past two hours now. he's also been thinking about you, thinking about how happy he gets seeing your face light up when he walks through the door, but he knows he won't see that tonight. you're going on a date, dinner with some loser who's not him. he knows he could treat you so much better, but he can't just say that. things would get weird, and jeonghan can't afford the rent on his own. so selfishly, he keeps you and his feelings at arm's length. he's still thinking about you as he puts his key in the lock, wondering if he can stay up late enough to make sure you get home safe. when he opens the door, he changes his mind.

"what are you doing here?" jeonghan asks with a bit of anger in his voice, finding you laid out on the couch scrolling through your phone. "you told me you were going on a date tonight. did you cancel on him?"

"nope," you reply, popping the p as you sit up to stare at your roommate. "he cancelled on me. ten minutes before he was supposed to pick me up, actually, so i got ready for nothing."

that's when jeonghan notices the nice clothes you have on, your hair done up but mussed now that you've been laying on it. and, with a pang in his chest, he notices your makeup that looks smudged with tears. he knows you've been having dating trouble lately, and it's definitely been getting to you. but it makes his heart ache to think that you've been home all night crying over some loser who couldn't even bother to take you out.

"why didn't you call me?" he asks softly, joining you on the couch as he lifts your legs to lay them over his lap. he keeps a comforting hand on your calf as you explain, a slight tremor in your bottom lip as you say, "i didn't want to interrupt boy's night."

"baby, come on," he sighs. "you should have told me. you could've come to boy's night!"

"right," you scoff, rolling your eyes. "and hear all of them talk about their beautiful girlfriends and being so happy in a relationship? i'd rather eat drywall."

"we talk about other stuff," jeonghan laughs. "i told them about you getting us tickets to that soccer game and now i think they like you better than me. mingyu might be calling to see if he can take my ticket."

"never," you smile at him, sitting up and swinging your legs from his lap. "well, it's late. you're probably tired."

"eh," jeonghan shrugs, looking over you carefully to gauge if you're upset. "i could stay up a little longer, if you wanted to watch something."

"we're caught up on all our shows though," you pout. jeonghan sees an idea cross your face, so he asks, "what are you thinking?"

"nothing," you shake your head. "i remembered i didn't watch project runway last week, but you don't like that show-"

"put it on," he nods to the tv, looking over you one more time and noticing your clothes must not be that comfortable. "or you go change, i'll set it up."

"you don't know what episode i'm on though," you squint at him, and he shakes his head.

"nope, you're two weeks behind," he says. "i remember, because we went out the week before and you were ticked off that you were missing it."

"you pay too much attention to me," you mumble as you finally get up from the couch, jeonghan barely hearing you as he checks you out from behind. you're right, he does. too bad you haven't realized why.

when you come back from your room, you're wearing a hoodie that's seen better days and shorts that aren't quite doing their job. jeonghan clears his throat, trying not to stare, but when you sit down and put your legs back over his lap he can't help but skirt his hand over your skin, getting too close to your thigh without realizing.

"that tickles," you giggle, pushing his hand away. "you're annoying."

"ha, sorry," he laughs nervously, not sure what to do with his hands now so he reaches for the remote to press play. not far into the episode you curl up on your side of the couch, your knees tucked up beneath you as you lay down. jeonghan keeps an eye on you the whole time, attune to all your reactions and movements. he notices when you shiver, up in an instant to get a blanket.

"where are you going?" you call out, and he comes back wordlessly with the comforter from his room. he wraps it over you, using the rest of it to cover himself as he gets comfortable again. you find yourself dozing off, waking up every few minutes to see the progress on your favorite designers. you sleep through a whole section of the show, whining that you need to rewind, but jeonghan quietly explains what's happened and you're satisfied enough.

"do you want me to turn this off?" jeonghan asks after he sees your eyes closed again after you just complained about missing part of the show. you shake your head, not much of it visible outside of his blanket. you're noticing how nice his blanket smells, recognizing it as the same fresh scent that follows jeonghan around. it makes you feel at home, and that's part of what's making you so sleepy.

"i don't wanna go to my room," you admit shyly, feeling the tears from earlier just a moment or two away. "i'll stay awake, promise."

"do you want to sleep out here?" jeonghan asks, and you think about it for a moment. it wouldn't be the first time you had a little sleepover of sorts, both of you squished awkwardly on the couch or sleeping far apart from each other on someone's mattress that's been dragged out from one of your rooms. your silence decides it for jeonghan, and he says, "i'll go change, and then we can go to sleep." all you do is nod, getting comfortable beneath his comforter again as jeonghan slinks back to his bedroom to get ready for bed.

he comes back out and laughs to himself, your messy hair and scrunched sleepy face pulling at his heart. he knows someday he should tell you how he feels. he knows what you're looking for, and he knows he's perfect for you. it's just a matter of time before you figure that out, too.

-

a few days later, jeonghan was in the middle of a nap when he heard mumbling in the hallway and the sound of someone slamming doors. he was worried for only a few minutes, thinking it could possibly be an intruder, but as the mumbling gets closer to his door he knows there's a very frustrated y/n on the other side. he groans as he hoists himself up, shuffling to the door so he can peek out at you putting laundry away in the most irritated way possible. it's like you're trying to punish the towels for existing, and jeonghan can't help but laugh at the annoyed look on your face. it's cute, he finds himself thinking, but his chuckle pulls you from your dark thoughts and brings your anger to a new victim.

"what."

"nothing," jeonghan says defensively. "i thought someone was breaking in, you know, with all the banging around."

"shut up," you mumble, shoving the washcloths into the hall closet before slamming the door. you turn to your best friend and roommate, finger pointed accusingly, "i'm in a bad mood so don't piss me off."

"that explains the stress cleaning," he notes, and you ignore him.

"i'm going downstairs to put the dishes away," you grumble as you pass by him to get to the stairs, and he puts a timid hand on your shoulder.

"maybe do something that involves less breakables," he says coolly. "go punch a pillow or something."

"that's a good idea," you say, face lighting up slightly, and he laughs nervously as he finally asks what's wrong. "you remember that bitch of a dude who i was talking to a couple weeks ago?"

"gar bear?" jeonghan asks, and you roll your eyes.

"gary, yeah."

"what about him?" he asks, watching you unlock your phone and scroll to find something. you shove it into his hands, open to a very disturbing picture of a very ugly dick. "no."

"yeah. at three pm on a fucking thursday."

"stop making me look at it," he whines, pushing your phone back to you. "that's what made you mad?"

"yes!" you shout. "how did that thought process work? oh, this girl who i led on and then gaslit and then weirded out, she really needs to see my dick right now. it's the middle of the day! get a job! contribute to society!!!"

"why's he posing like that?" jeonghan asks, noticing more about the photo since you haven't locked your phone yet. "he looks so stiff."

"please stop," you say, but jeonghan sees a smile pulling at your lips.

"so what did you do?"

"i said 'what is your problem' and then i blocked him," you shrug, and he laughs.

"remind me to never piss you off," he says as he wraps an arm around you. "i'm sorry guys are assholes."

"i think i'm gonna become a nun," you mumble into his shoulder, staying in his hold maybe a minute too long. he presses a quick kiss to the crown of your head before letting you go, a blush on your cheeks that he takes pride in.

"you'd suck at being a nun, you're not nice enough," he jokes, and the way you glare at him makes him smile. "plus you fuck too much, aren't they supposed to be celibate?"

"forget punching pillows, i'm gonna punch you."

"sure baby," he chuckles, looking back at you as he walks downstairs. "you want food or something? i'll do the dishes. you just focus on not burning down the patriarchy."

"no promises," you mumble as you follow behind him. "but yeah, i wanna try this recipe i found the other day..."

it's over dinner that night that you realize how perfect jeonghan is. if only you could find a guy just like your best friend. someone who supports you, makes you smile, know how to get your heart to skip a beat. take, for example, his compliments. you like to joke to jeonghan that you need validation on your cooking, like tinkerbell, so whenever you cook for him the praises are nonstop. he's nothing if not supportive, so he tries to find things to comment on that he knows will make you blush. it works, and you do your best to tell him to stop without making it obvious that your heart is doing somersaults at his words.

this is what you want from a relationship, you find yourself thinking. you want to be comfortable with them, feel supported, all the things that jeonghan gives you. that night, you scroll through your dating apps, looking for a guy you think could meet those standards. in reality, you spend the whole night comparing the men on your screen to your roommate, subconsciously thinking of all the things you like most about jeonghan that these losers don't possess. you fall asleep like that, phone open to an empty chat, with jeonghan still on your mind.

-

so, a downside to living with jeonghan is you get the brunt end of all his weird energy. sometimes it's fun, and manifests itself in silly ways. like when you go thrifting, he takes it upon himself to find the weirdest thing in the store and insists on bringing it home. it means your apartment is decorated uniquely, but some of the stranger things you make him keep in his room. you haven't figured out yet that he only does this to make you laugh, loving how you smile sweetly at all the funny trinkets littered around your house. anything that goes into his room is eventually donated back to goodwill, its purpose served, doomed to delight another unassuming shopper some day.

other times, his weird energy comes out in worse ways. like today, he's not home, but you can feel that something's wrong. you know jeonghan is helping his friends with some video shoot, and he won't be home until much later. but there's a vibe in your apartment when you walk in. something is off, and it doesn't take you long to realize it. jeonghan has moved everything around, the couch where your kitchen table should be, the chairs from the table lined up in place of your couch. he's a strange one, your best friend, but it makes you laugh nonetheless, sending him a picture of the chairs and asking, "how am i supposed to fall asleep watching tv on this?!"

jeonghan smiles when he gets your text, shooting back, "watch tv in your room if you know you're just gonna fall asleep!"

really, he did the switcharoo for you to let your guard down. yes, moving furniture around is something silly that he would do, but he hid something further in the house that he wants you to find. he's hoping he'll be home when you do, but just the mere thought of your reaction has him chuckling. he goes back to whatever vernon wanted him to do, curious at each buzz from his phone, wondering if it's you.

jeonghan got the best of you, like usual. you did just go to your room, putting on one of your comfort shows so you could relax after a boring shift at work. you only get up to make a quick meal, dozing off again with the empty plate beside you. when the tv wakes you up you figure it's just time for you to go to bed, so you shuffle to the kitchen and notice a light coming from under jeonghan's door. he must have come home while you were napping, but it's late, so you go about your business. you drop your things off in the kitchen, returning upstairs to grab a washcloth and towel from the closet before you lock yourself in the bathroom. jeonghan is listening intently as you move around, waiting for the sound of the shower curtain pulling back and-

"JEONGHAN?!"

with sock clad feet that send him crashing through the now open bathroom door, he greets you with a shit eating grin. "you rang?"

"what the FUCK is that doing in here," you bellow, pointing at the plastic skeleton jeonghan found at the party store earlier that day. he thought it would be funny to hide in the apartment, at first just thinking about propping it up in the kitchen like the dead guy was making a meal, but the idea of scaring you a little was too good for him to pass up.

"man, when was the last time you cleaned your bathroom?" jeonghan jokes, "he must've been in here a while."

"fuck you," you spit, heart still racing from the surprise. that's when jeonghan notices something: you're naked. well, not entirely. like, you definitely don't have clothes on, his eyes flicking down to see your discarded panties and sleep shirt on the floor. he can't see the goods though because you're dangerously holding a towel over your body, one edge of it slipping as you reach out to try and punch jeonghan.

"what, you don't like him?" jeonghan pouts, stepping out of the bathroom to protect himself. "i thought you said you wanted to start decorating for halloween."

"this is not what i meant and you know it, you jackass," you try to say meanly, but jeonghan finds it cute. "it scared the shit out of me."

"i'm sorry," he says finally, hands twitching to reach out and grab you by the waist so he can rub comforting circles on your skin. but he can't. he physically shakes his hands out, a thing he does often enough to reset his mind that you look at him quizzically.

"why'd you do that?" you ask, and he clasps his hands behind his back defensively.

"felt like it," he shrugs. you roll your eyes and reach for the door, grumbling more expletives at him as you try to shut it in his face. "um, y/n?"

"what."

"you gonna shower with him?" jeonghan asks, pointing to your new friend. "i gotta admit, i'm a little jealous-"

"oh my god," you groan, grabbing the skeleton and throwing it at jeonghan with a comical clangor of plastic bones. "i hate you."

"love you too baby," jeonghan laughs as he closes the door for you, hefting the skeleton over his shoulder to go hide him in another corner of the house.

-

a few days later (jeonghan has hid the skeleton twice now), you come home from a date, dopey smile still on your face. you gasp when you see a body on the couch, thinking it's that stupid skeleton again. you breathe a sigh of relief when you realize it's a snoozing jeonghan instead. he looks angelic, his soft features shining brightly even in the dark room, illuminated by the tv. you don't realize that you're staring, nor do you realize jeonghan is peeking at you, the sound of the door waking him up.

"hey," he calls quietly, startling you. "sorry. i can go back to sleep and you can keep staring."

"i wasn't staring," you say defensively.

"sure," jeonghan nods, checking you out. "you look nice."

"who's staring now?" you ask as you cross to the kitchen. "i went out to dinner, but the portions were too small. do you want something to eat?"

"no, i'm good!" jeonghan calls. "was it a fancy place?"

"what?" you ask, coming back into the living room with a bag of chips. "i couldn't hear you."

"where you ate," he clarifies. "you dressed up, the servings were small, must have been a fancy place this guy took you to."

"how'd you know i was on a date?" you pout.

"y/n, i know you better than anyone else," jeonghan chuckles. "it was obvious. how'd it go?"

"good," you nod, ears burning under jeonghan's close attention. "don't wanna jinx it though."

"ok," jeonghan nods. "well i'm glad it was a good date. you deserve one of those."

"how was your night?" you ask. jeonghan shifts on the couch so there's room for you to sit and join him. once you're settled he explains how his friend seungcheol had come over for drinks, but he left a little while ago.

"i think he's got a girlfriend and doesn't want to tell me," jeonghan says, "because he feels bad that i'm not seeing anybody."

"you want me to find you a lady?" you tease. "you know my friends love you, i'm sure it'd be easy.''

"no," he shakes his head so some of his hair falls in his eyes. it makes it easier for him to stare at you without you noticing. "i'm good."

"well, it's a standing offer," you say as you get up to return the chips to the pantry. when you walk back through the living room, you ask, "where's jack tonight? i'm about to shower, i don't want another heart attack."

"i put the skeleton in your bed," jeonghan smiles with an impish glint in his eyes. "i figured it would be a nice surprise for the poor sap you might have brought home."

"you're annoying."

"thanks!" jeonghan chirps, and you laugh before telling him goodnight. he watches you go, smiling at something on your phone. jeonghan feels a pang in his chest ever so slightly, but he shakes it off, turning the tv off before he goes back to sleep trying not to think about you.

-

the following week, you're acting off. jeonghan notices immediately, but he doesn't bring it up to you at first. he's not sure if maybe work is stressing you, or maybe you've got family stuff going on...whatever it is, he'll give it a day or two before he checks on you, knowing how you like having time to yourself before someone swoops in to help.

the reality is, you really like this guy you've been talking to. that first date was amazing, and you wanted to go out with him again as soon as possible. you talk all the time, always ducking into your room when he calls while you're around jeonghan. you're actually ignoring jeonghan a lot, which you feel bad about, but you just can't get enough of this new guy. even though you're talking a lot, it's hard to set up another date with him because you're both busy with work. you've got plans to hang out on sunday, and for the first time in a long time, you're excited for a date. not nervous, not dreading it, just pure schoolgirl crush excitement.

that's why it's so crushing when, a few hours before, the guy texts you and cancels. you play it off at first, asking when he's free to reschedule, but his response is basically telling you to get lost. it hurts your feelings more than it should, because he is just some loser dude, but you also didn't know him that long. you have no reason to be so devastated over this, but you are.

jeonghan knew about your second date with this guy, so he made plans to be out of the house for as long as possible on sunday. as selfish as it was, he didn't want to be there for the giddy getting ready (you always ask him for outfit advice and he always tells you that you look great) or for the nervous pacing while you waited for the guy to pick you up (jeonghan always distracts you with jokes to calm your nerves). he also didn't want to be there after the date, if you happened to bring the lucky guy home. so he's out running errands, bothering his friends, and killing time until he's sure he won't walk in on anything he doesn't want to see.

when jeonghan gets home, it's late. after his day of farting around he went to his friend wonwoo's apartment for a while to heckle him while he played video games, and wonwoo finally kicked him out.

"don't you need to go home to your girlfriend?" wonwoo had teased, and jeonghan kicked him from his spot on the couch.

"y/n's my best friend and my roommate."

"so basically your girlfriend," wonwoo smiles that little smile of his, and it annoys jeonghan.

"she doesn't think of it like that," jeonghan mumbles, looking for his phone so he can head home anyway.

"because you're being too subtle."

"i'm not trying to be anything!" jeonghan says defensively. "i don't want her to know."

"why not?" wonwoo asks, finally turning to look at his friend. "you afraid she'll say no? because we all think-"

"i'll see you later, ok?" jeonghan says quickly, his shoes barely on as he tries to unlock the door. "hope cheol doesn't kill you again."

"in his dreams," wonwoo mumbles, his attention effectively back on the game and off of jeonghan.

jeonghan comes home to a mostly dark apartment, the stove light in the kitchen the only indication that you got home before him. he stops at the door to make sure there's no...unpleasant sounds coming from elsewhere, and when he's met with silence he kicks his shoes off carefully before heading to his room. he's exhausted, hiding from you all day being a good way to wear a person out. when he passes by your room something catches his ear, and his heart stops. were you moaning?

jeonghan knows he shouldn't, but he presses his ear against your door, telling himself he's only doing this so he can decide if he needs to stay somewhere else tonight. he's waiting to hear another voice, a man's voice, but he's met with a quiet whimper, followed by some sniffles. his heart roars back to life hearing that, almost breaking to pieces when he realizes you're not moaning, you're in your room crying. he's opening the door before he knows what he's doing, and you jump out of your skin at the unwelcome intrusion.

"go away," you whisper. jeonghan ignores you, coming to your bedside and looking down at you with concern in his eyes. "jeonghan, please. go away-"

"why are you crying?" he asks, and you don't say anything. "what did that asshole do?"

"nothing," you sniff again, willing your tears to stay back as you try to appease your roommate long enough for him to decide you're fine and leave you alone. "h-he was bu-busy and had to cancel-"

"fuck him."

"yeah, whatever," you say shakily. "it doesn't matter. i'm fine. now leave. please." your eyes are closed, trying to hide the tears that are welling up, and jeonghan is so quiet you assume he left, but he's trying not to let his own emotions show as he calls your name.

"y/n," jeonghan whispers, and when you look up at him you can't help it. you start crying again seeing him so upset over you being so upset, and before long you're back to bawling your eyes out. you barely register jeonghan cooing softly at you, climbing into bed and scooping you up into his arms. his lips are pressing soft kisses up and down your hairline, and it makes you cry even more. this is what you want, you think. this is what you need, what you've been missing. you want a boyfriend that will care for you like jeonghan does, that will be there for you like jeonghan is. it physically hurts you to think that you may never have that, that there's a possibility you'll never feel that kind of romantic love from someone. and you want to say that, you want to tell jeonghan why he came home to you pathetically crying so much, but he doesn't care. he just wants you to stop, so he'll hold you in his arms whispering sweet jokes to you until there's no more tears. he gets the slightest smile out of you right before you doze off, hands bunched into his shirt holding on for dear life. jeonghan holds you tighter, pressing one last kiss to the tip of your snotty nose before he drifts off to sleep with you.

-

you wake up later, not quite in the morning, but a few hours have passed. you're not used to sharing a bed with someone, especially when that person has such a vice grip on you as jeonghan does. once your mind has registered that you're awake, you also feel the burn of someone's eyes on you. sure enough, when you peek into the darkness of your room you see jeonghan staring back, eyebrows creased and teeth nibbling his bottom lip.

"stop chewing your lip," you tell him, reaching out to tug it from between his teeth. "i'm fine. you don't need to worry about me."

"wrong," he replies, watching you intensely as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. the quiet that follows has your face heating up, and the heat spreads through the rest of your body. it feels like every point where jeonghan's body is pressed against yours is on fire, and you want to pull away. but you don't.

"why aren't you in your room."

"because i wanted to sleep here," he replies. "i hope that's ok."

"it's not-"

"bummer," jeonghan cuts you off. "i'm not leaving."

"i'm not crying anymore though," you point out. "so. i'm fine."

"nope," he shakes his head. his bangs fall back into his eyes, and you think briefly he must need a haircut, but you hope he doesn't get one. the long hair suits him, even if it keeps him from seeing sometimes. you don't think about it, your hand unclenching his shirt and instead reaching up to brush his hair out of his face. jeonghan watches you carefully, and your breath gets caught in your throat when you look back down to his eyes. he's staring at you so intensely you can feel it in your chest, and that's when it hits you: jeonghan. you want a boyfriend like jeonghan. well! jeonghan's right here! what are you gonna do about it?

"jeonghan, i..." you trail off, staring at him like you're seeing him in a new light. he waits patiently for you to go on, thinking you might explain the situation a little more, but you don't know what to say. you just get hit with the intense need to bury your face in his chest, breathing in his scent and listening to his heartbeat as you fall back asleep.

"what?" he asks, trying to encourage you to keep speaking.

"um, can i just-" you try, but instead of speaking you just nuzzle into his chest, nose at the base of his neck tickling his skin. "i want to go back to sleep."

"then sleep baby," he whispers as he squeezes you tighter, afraid to let go. as you fall asleep, you let your hands relax against his chest, one of them laid right over his racing heart.

-

the next morning, you wake up to an empty bed and almost convince yourself you dreamed up jeonghan last night. like an oasis in the desert, he came to you when you needed him most. a little part of you wishes it wasn't real so you could go back to a time where you didn't know your true feelings for jeonghan, but your mussed sheets proves it wasn't a dream. jeonghan's scent is still lingering on your extra pillow, and you take a deep breath and remember how it felt to be wrapped up in your best friend.

jeonghan comes back into your room with two coffees in hand and he sees you nuzzling your face into the spot where his head laid just minutes ago. he lets you wallow for a moment before he calls your name softly. you jump up, cheeks warming as you look at jeonghan in your doorway.

"morning," he smiles. he hands you your coffee, your cold hands brushing his and sparking warmth across his skin. he stops himself from leaning down to kiss your forehead, knowing that whatever intimacy you shared last night is probably left in the past. you were sad, and jeonghan was there to comfort you. he'd happily do that a million times over, but he doesn't think you feel the same way he does.

"jeonghan, i'm sorry about last night," you try to apologize, but he shakes his head.

"don't," he stops you. "i would do it again if you needed it."

"well if you find me crying over some loser again tonight you have full permission to slap me," you tell him. "one night was enough."

"noted," he laughs, awkwardly standing in your room, unsure if he can get back into bed with you. you pick up on the way his eyes keep flitting from you to his spot, and you pat the empty space so he'll sit down.

"stop being weird," you say, bumping shoulders with him once he's comfortably next to you again. "so how'd you sleep?"

"pretty good," he starts out, "but there was this really annyoing sound coming from your side of the bed?"

"oh you mean me crying?"

"no, like this really loud, obnoxious snoring, kinda like-" jeonghan starts demonstrating, sending you into a fit of giggles and a pushing match to get him to stop.

"i think that was you!" you shriek, carefully trying not to spill your coffee. "don't spill that in my bed, i'll kill you."

"and then who are you gonna cuddle at night?" jeonghan asks, regretting it when he feels the tension between you both.

"i could always cuddle with jack," you joke to break the awkwardness, and jeonghan rolls his eyes.

"i hate that you named the skeleton."

"the skeleton is a guest in our home," you tease him. "show him some respect."

"whatever, freak," he says before downing the rest of his coffee. he gets an idea then, turning to you to ask, "what are you doing today?"

"um, nothing except work," you reply. "but you know my job is barely real so i'm basically doing nothing."

"let's go get coffee," jeonghan says, a playful look in his eyes.

"we just had coffee," you point out.

"no, no, we'll get good coffee, you can do some work, i'll watch you do some work, it'll be great," he insists, getting up and pulling you out of bed with him.

"if you're still trying to cheer me up i swear i'm fine," you say through your laughter, pressing back against jeonghan trying to push you toward your closet. "you don't need to take me for coffee or do anything else to make me feel better. i'm fine now."

"glad to hear it," he smiles softly, squeezing your hand that's clasped firmly in his. "but i still want to get coffee, so get dressed or everyone at the cafe will see you in that god forsaken t shirt."

the t shirt in question is one that jeonghan found for you during one of your goodwill visits. for whatever reason, it says 'i shaved my balls for this' and it got the biggest laugh from you all night, so jeonghan had to bring it home. despite being awful colors (light blue paired with neon yellow) it's actually quite comfortable, and you love the way it makes jeonghan laugh every time you wear it. it's unironically become your favorite sleep shirt, but you are mortified at the thought of anyone aside from your best friend seeing you in it. you quickly change, grabbing your work laptop from your desk before you head into the living room to find jeonghan waiting for you.

it's not unusual for him to take you out on random adventures, but this one feels different. he stays closer to you than normal, insists on buying your drink, and you catch him actually watching you work.

"get a hobby," you mumble, looking down at your laptop so he hopefully won't see your blushing cheeks.

"this is my hobby," he says. "i'm hanging out with my favorite person."

"seungcheol's going to be very sad to hear he's been demoted," you tease.

"he knows where he stands," jeonghan says, still watching you intently. you can't take it anymore, staring back at him.

"seriously, pretend to read or something! you're distracting me."

"i'm distracting you?" he smiles. "why? i'm not doing anything."

"i'm sending this email and then we're leaving," you say, and he shrugs.

"if you want, baby."

baby. it hits you harder this time, jeonghan's silly little nickname for you. you thought it started off as a sarcastic thing, but recently you feel like it sounds sweeter and sweeter coming from his lips. after last night, it makes your heart skip a beat, and that's when it hits you: are you on a date with jeonghan right now?!

"wait. waitwaitwait. hold on," you say, pointing at jeonghan and then yourself. "is this a date? are we on a date?"

"what? no baby," he shakes his head, and now you're confused. "no, if we were on a date you'd know."

"what's that supposed to mean?" you squeak out.

"do you want us to be on a date right now?" jeonghan counters, and you know your blushing cheeks have you in trouble. "you do?"

"i-i don't know-"

"hm, you wanna go on a date with me," jeonghan says matter of factly. "well, that's good to know."

"what are you doing?" you ask as he starts cleaning up his space.

"oh i need to go back to the apartment," he says. "gotta get my laptop so i can start planning a date that's worthy of you. i'll see you at home?"

"jeonghan, what?" you're left sputtering as he heads to the door, not looking back even though he knows your staring. he's afraid you'll see the excited/nervous shake in his hands, so he needs to go cool off. well, that and plan the best date of your entire life. he's got a lot of ground to cover. thankfully, the idiots you usually grace your time with have set the bar pretty low. jeonghan is determined to bring it higher, so high in fact that you won't be able to go on another first date without comparing it to his. if things go right though, maybe you won't have to go on a first date ever again.

-

jeonghan left the coffeeshop before you, so it would make sense if he was at the apartment when you got back, right? wrong. you come home about an hour later to an empty home, no sign of jeonghan. you think that's fine, it gives you a chance to actually get some work done. but jeonghan being mia has you a little nervous. what's he doing? he said he was going to plan a date. for you. and him. you and jeonghan...on a date? that's crazy.

you've done a good job ignoring that whole concept, trying to get ahead on a project you need to present later this week. you're so hyperfocused that the whole day goes by before you realize it, and when you finally emerge from your room you really expect to find jeonghan in the living room. he's still gone, so you decide to text him, asking casually if he would be home for dinner. the domesticity isn't lost on you, and it makes jeonghan smile when he gets it. he decides to call instead of texting back, balancing his phone against his shoulder and his cheek once you pick up.

"you miss me or something?" he asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

"i was just curious," you reply nonchalantly. "you've been missing all day."

"i've been busy."

"oh ok."

"i'll be home soon though," he tells you. "don't make dinner, just make sure you're dressed in an hour."

"for what?"

"a surprise."

"i need more information and you know that," you scoff, and you hear jeonghan chuckle.

"dress nice, but not fancy. and wear something blue so we'll match," he explains, and you feel your cheeks warm. "i gotta go, but i'll see you soon, baby."

hearing that coming from jeonghan now makes your heart skip a beat, and it makes you wonder if you've always felt like this and you just didn't notice. you keep thinking about him as you get ready, steaming out a dress you were planning to wear on a date that didn't happen. it's a soft blue with long sleeves and a low tie in the front. you worry for a moment that it might be too revealing, but checking the time rushes you into action. you're almost ready when there's a knock at the front door, which you ignore. there's another knock, this time louder, so you grumble your way to the living room to peek through the peephole. you gasp when you see what's on the other side.

you throw the door open, revealing a visibly nervous jeonghan with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. he's wearing a blue shirt, almost the exact shade of your dress, and he openly stares at you with a happy smile and a look in his eyes that you've never seen before.

"jeonghan?" you ask, pulling him from his intense focus on your chest.

"y/n," he smiles, eyes flicking up to yours. "you look stunning."

"i'm not ready yet," you pout slightly, checking the time on your phone. "you weren't very specific about when you were coming home."

"you look perfect," he says, checking you out again. "what else could you need to do?"

"wouldn't you like to know?" you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

"i can give you ten minutes, but any longer than that and we'll be late."

"late for what?" you ask as he passes you the flowers. "these are beautiful by the way, carnations are-"

"your favorite, i know," he smiles softly. "you buy yourself a bunch almost every time you're at the grocery store."

"i can't remember the last time someone bought me flowers either," you mumble, opening the door enough for jeonghan to come inside. "what are you still doing out there? it's your house, come in."

"finish getting ready," he laughs at you, reaching for the flowers again. "i'm putting them in a vase, weirdo. you'll get them back when you're done getting pretty."

"i'll be back," you whisper, running off before he can see how nervous you just got. you try to calm your nerves as you finish your touch ups, panicking last minute over which shoes and purse go with your outfit.

jeonghan is sitting on the couch, your flowers in your favorite vase on the coffeetable. he perks up at the sound of you shuffling down the hallway, but he pouts when he sees you holding up all your shoes.

"y/n, we're gonna be late."

"i don't know which ones to wear," you say simply, and he smiles as he comes up to you, analyzing the choices. he picks the white shoes and the white purse.

"glad we're still keeping this tradition alive even though i'm the one taking you out this time," he says proudly, watching you get situated. you stand back up, mussing your hair one last time before he asks, "ready to go, beautiful?"

"i don't know why i'm so nervous," you tell him, taking his arm as you leave the apartment. "we hang out all the time."

"yeah, but this isn't us hanging out," jeonghan says as you wait for the elevator. "i'm taking you on the best date of your life. nerves are completely valid."

"are you nervous?" you whisper, leaning in so jeonghan gets a good whiff of your perfume that he loves finding traces of all through his life. he holds your gaze, eyes flicking down momentarily before he shakes his head.

"no, i thought i would be, but i'm not," he replies simply as you get on the elevator.

"ok good, so i'll just freak out for the both of us then."

"would you? that takes a lot of pressure off of me," jeonghan jokes, and you pinch his arm. "ouch! so mean to me when i've made the perfect night for you."

"and what does this perfect night entail?" you ask. jeonghan just shakes his head, leading you out into the lobby of the building. he takes you a different way, not walking to the parking garage but instead to the main entrance of your building. "jeonghan, are we walking there? i don't think i can make it in these shoes-"

you stop mid-sentence, spotting the shiny baby blue mustang convertible parked outside. you look at jeonghan, mouth open in surprise. he has to tug you down the hallway and out into the cool night air, helping you into the passenger seat with ease. you watch on in shock as he gets into the driver's side, finally cutting through the fog in your mind to ask, "do you even know how to drive this?"

"yeah," jeonghan says coolly, opening the glovebox to hand you a scrunchie of yours that he stole. "here, you might wanna put your hair up."

"you're insane," you tell him, playing with the scrunchie in your lap as he starts the car. you can't believe this so far, and the date's barely begun. what other surprises could he possibly have in store for you?

-

after a quick ride out of the city, you find yourself at a retro drive in that's completely empty. you have a sneaking suspicion jeonghan rented it just for the two of you tonight, but you don't have a chance to ask. once he parks, he's asking you to open the glovebox and you smile when you see the stack of movie theatre candy boxes he's stashed away. you take them out, turning back to jeonghan to see he's produced a tub of popcorn from somewhere and a couple of your favorite sodas. you stare at him with your mouth opening and closing like a fish and he just smiles proudly in return.

"jeonghan, what did you do?" you finally ask, and he laughs.

"do you like it?"

"what are we doing here?"

"watching a movie," he says obviously. he shifts the snacks, the drinks going into the holders by the radio and the popcorn and candy going on the dashboard. "come closer," he mumbles, tugging your arm. the smooth vinyl of the seats sending you flying into jeonghan's side, and you giggle nervously as you adjust your dress. jeonghan lays the snacks out over your laps and drapes his arm across your shoulders for good measure. he looks at you to gauge whether you're settled or not, and when he decides you're ready he presses on the horn once. the screen in front of you lights up, and you gasp as you see the opening credits for your favorite movie flashing before you.

"where did you get the idea to do this?" you ask him with a smile, taking a few pieces of popcorn to give you something to do with your hands.

"just thought it would be something different," he shrugs, and you leave it at that. you can barely focus on the movie, hyperaware of how warm jeonghan is next to you and how every glance he casts your way sends your heart racing faster and faster. a few minutes into it, you remember your hair is still tied up from the ride, so you shuffle out of jeonghan's grasp to pull the scrunchie down and reset yourself. you know jeonghan is watching, so you mumble, "watch the movie, weirdo."

"i've seen it before," he whispers back, eyes still heavy on you. "i'm not missing anything."

"you've seen me before too," you point out, leaning back into his side once you're done moving around. "quite a lot, actually."

"yeah, but i've never seen you on a date before," he says. "and on a date with me? whoa. i gotta soak it all in."

you turn to look at him then, admiring the way his hair falls so slightly into his eyes, the way his lips stretch over his shy smile, how his eyes glisten when they meet yours. you could kick yourself for not noticing any of this sooner. who knew you had exactly what you were looking for right here?

"jeonghan, i-" you start, but realize you don't have the words to tell him what you want to say. you stop, staring at him with your brows furrowed cutely.

"what, baby?" he laughs, his thumb coming up to trace the creases in your forehead. "you're gonna give yourself premature wrinkles like this."

"why are you doing this?" you ask quietly. "why are you so...wonderful? all the time?"

"because," he shrugs, his hand falling from your forehead to rest just below your chin. "i've been trying to show you what it would be like. took you long enough to come around."

"show me what?" you ask confused.

"what it's like being loved by me," he smiles back. you feel your breath catch in your throat, and you want to say something. you want to tell him how you feel, how you're sorry it took you so long, how you love every moment you spend with jeonghan by your side. instead you just lean forward, lips brushing over his. you bring your hands up to his neck, wrapping them in the soft hair at the back of his head as you scoot impossibly closer and try to press all your love into this one kiss. jeonghan keeps his hold on your chin, thumb stroking softly at your cheek. he's the first one to pull back, laughing when you try to bring his lips back to yours so quickly. he leans his forehead against yours, soft hair tickling your skin as he asks, "so you get it now?"

"yeah," you nod, knocking your heads together and sending you both into a fit of giggles. jeonghan steals a few more kisses, and when you finally calm down he pulls you back into his side, squeezing you as close to him as possible. you lay your head down on his shoulder, pressing your lips into the closest part of him you can reach. "thank you, jeonghan. my jeonghan."

"my y/n," he sighs, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "my beautiful, kind, funny girl."

"stop staring," you whisper bashfully. "you're missing the movie."

"i'm not missing anything," he repeats, but he takes one last look at you before he kisses the top of your head and finally turns back to the screen. this might be your first date with jeonghan, but it certainly won't be your last.

[scamarchive]

Red Flags: How to Identify a Tumblr Scam (Pet Edition)

Has someone sent you a message requesting that you boost their sick pet fundraiser? Have you seen someone reblog a post like that? It could be a scam.

Check out this list of red flags before you boost or donate!

🚩 Red flag #1: Someone you don't know has sent you an ask out of nowhere, requesting that you boost their fundraiser

Scammers like to cover as much ground as possible. To do this, they find completely random, unrelated people through the trending and popular posts. If you reblog a trending or popular post and receive an ask soon afterwards, that's probably how they came across your blog!

Example: you watch a new release movie like 'Puss in Boots', and you reblog some trending fanart. You receive an ask about a fundraiser a few days later.

Example 2: you like some fanart of characters from the recent 'The Last of Us' episode, which is trending on tumblr. You receive an ask about a fundraiser that night.

Example 3: you reblog some cottagecore photography or another post that contains a trending aesthetic. Hours later, you receive an ask about a fundraiser.

🚩 Red flag #2: They tell you to answer their ask privately

Scammers love spamming the same copy-pasted ask to hundreds of people! They also love to reuse asks from previous scams. To reduce how many people notice the similarities between their current asks and asks from previous scams, they'll tell you to answer privately, to stop more evidence from getting out there. Also consider: if someone really has a sick pet, they should want as much exposure as they can get! Telling someone not to publish their ask seems counterintuitive, unless they have an ulterior motive.. Which a scammer will definitely have.

Knowing these red flags, check out the six scam asks below. What do they have in common?

🚩 Red flag #3: Comments are turned off in the fundraising post, or there are removed comments

Scammers preemptively turn off comments in their posts so people can't call attention to the fact they're scams. People who have real fundraisers, on the other hand, are usually glad to talk to you in the comments! Sometimes, scammers let people make comments, but there may be a message that 'some comments have been deleted or removed'. These were usually warnings from people who realized it was a scam.

🚩 Red flag #4: Their ask box is closed

Scammers preemptively turn off their ask box because they can't provide proof that the pets and vet bills belong to them. They also want to avoid angry messages from people who realize they're a scammer.

🚩 Red flag #5: They ask you to send money through paypal's 'friends and family'

On paypal, you can send strangers funds using 'goods and services', or 'friends and family'. Scammers will often ask you to send through 'friends and family' because you have very little protection and you'll have a hard time getting your money back! Scammers like to spin it as being 'faster', and they'll try to appeal to your emotions to create a sense of urgency and guilt, convincing you to send money using that option.

🚩 Red flag #6: Their posts have no tags. Their posts are all reblogs of trending posts. They don't seem to be reblogging consistently from any specific blogs

Scammers make a fresh blog for every new scam. They want to set up their blogs as fast as possible, so they cut corners, meaning that aside from their fundraising post, all their posts will be reblogs, and they won't usually have tags. The reblogs will often be of trending, easy-to-find tumblr posts! In most cases, scammers reblog posts from as many different blogs as they can, unlike the typical tumblr user who usually reblogs from select people they follow, over and over.

🚩 Red flag #7: They only have ~40 posts on their blog

Scammers know that most people won't spend more than a moment scrolling through a blog to verify its age, so they'll only populate their blogs with just enough posts to convince someone who only scrolls for a short time. Usually, the posts are all made within a few hours at most. If a blog is run by a scammer, usually you can scroll through all the posts within five minutes.

Remember: scammers want you to think 'eh, good enough'! If you're scrolling through a blog and you start to think this, scroll for another minute or two!

If you're on desktop, you can quickly get to the end of someone's posts by tapping the 'end' or 'page down' keys.

🚩 Red flag #8: Most of their posts are reblogged directly from the original poster

Scammers will usually reblog posts directly from the person who originally posted them, unlike most tumblr users, who tend to see posts reblogged by their friends and reblog them from those friends instead.

🚩 Red flag #9: Most of their posts have very high note counts

This is another indication they were fabricating their blog activity. It's way easier to find super popular posts than smaller ones! This is not a rule, most scam blogs will have posts with ~40 notes mixed in with posts with ~40k notes.

🚩 Red flag #10: The timestamp of the oldest post is only a few days old

Most scam blogs don't last more than a week before tumblr deletes em. Once you've scrolled to the end of the blog, check the timestamp of the oldest post by clicking on the 'meatball' (three dots) icon in the corner of it. If that post is only a few days old, or if it's so new that you don't even see a date (only a time), the blog is probably run by a scammer!

🚩 Red flag #11: The blog is dash-only

Scammers disable their blog's main theme so people can't see their archive and instantly see how new all their posts are. They want you to have to scroll, then get tired of scrolling (or say 'good enough'), so you never reach the end of their very sparse posts and realize it's a fabricated blog.

🚩 Red flag #12: The reblog notes have warnings that say 'this is a scam'

When people reblog a scam post and realize it's a scam, they'll often edit the post to warn people who see it in the future. You can look for these warnings by checking the 'comments and replies' reblogs, and the 'comments only' reblogs! Scammers count on people to reblog instinctively and not check these notes.

🚩 Red flag #13: You check the 'other reblogs' tab and notice that many unrelated users reblogged the post directly from the original url

This indicates the person sent copy-pasted asks to many unrelated people (this ties into red flag #1 and #2!). An unknown blog shouldn't have this many direct reblogs for their post, especially if the post and blog itself is super new.

🚩 Red flag #14: You check out their url tag at tumblr.com/tagged/URLHERE and see posts warning that they're a scammer

Sometimes, upon searching for the person's url (you can do this by going to tumblr.com/tagged/URLHERE), you'll see a bunch of people who have outed the scammer. Keep in mind even if you don't see any warnings, it doesn't necessarily mean the person isn't a scammer! Sometimes a blog is just too new for anyone to have posted about it yet.

🚩 Red flag #15: The post uses strong emotional buzzwords and language

Scammers like to use a post template that involves many colourful emojis, and phrases like 'my poor (pet name)!', 'he deserves to live!', and 'help us save a (cat/dog/etc)!' to appeal to emotion and make people feel empowered to help. This is so someone will share the post as quickly as possible, and not spend as much time carefully vetting the blog. The language is designed to make people feel guilty if they don't share. Not all posts containing this language are scams, but scammers employ it a lot because it's super effective at getting results!

🚩 Red flag #16: They don't have established history with anyone on tumblr

If nobody knows who the person is, chances are it's a scam. There's no shame in asking around to see if people recognize the blog! Make sure if someone comes forward to confirm, that their blog is older and they're well known in the community. Scammers don't really go through the hassle of astroturfing real interactions with real people before making their scam posts.

🚩 Red flag #17: The currency on the vet bill doesn't match the currency of the country that appears when you hover over the paypal link

This is a big one! For example, imagine there's a post with a photo of a vet bill. You notice the costs are all in US dollars ($). Next you check out the paypal link at the bottom of the post by hovering over it with your cursor (or pressing and holding with your finger, if you're on mobile).

When you do this, in the bottom corner of your screen (or in a popup if you're on mobile), you see the url attached to that paypal link. This url reveals the paypal user's country using a short abbreviation! In the example below, you can see 'PH', which stands for 'Philippines':

Therefore, the post in this example is almost certainly a scam, because the currency in the Philippines is pesos (₱), not USD ($).

You can also look carefully at the vet bill to find the location of that vet. In this example, the vet is located in Richmond Virginia, US. That is a red flag too because again, the paypal recipient is located in the Philippines!

🚩 Red flag #18: They have both a venmo and a paypal link, but the names aren't the same

Scammers make sock puppet accounts for venmo and paypal, and they'll often reuse those accounts between scams! Because of this, their links won't have identical names. For instance, in the example scam above, their paypal said 'aatuck1', but their venmo said 'evan-naeher'. This is probably because they made a new paypal to match the name on the vet bill they stole, but they still had a working venmo they wanted to reuse.

Other handy things to remember:

Just because someone proves they aren't a bot, it doesn't mean they aren't a scammer!

Many scammers do manually send asks to people, do reply to people who ask questions (without giving any actual verification), and even block people who reveal them to be scammers. Many scammers have been confirmed to have 'waking hours' and 'sleeping hours'.

💡 When in doubt, ask the person to write some words of your choice on a sheet of paper, put it next to the animal, and send a picture of it to you. ����

If the person actually owns the pet, this will be easy for them. If they can't produce a picture, it's a scammer. Remember: if someone gives an excuse for why they can't send a pic, stay skeptical! Excuses are not a substitute for proof.

When in doubt, answer their ask firmly and skeptically.

This is the 'tough love' version of the above approach!! If someone sends you an ask, say firmly that their blog 'looks suspicious', and that you aren't comfortable sharing or donating. Often, scammers will block you as soon as you say this, because they know they can't provide any verification (unlike people with real fundraisers, who will be happy to give it) and because you've given them the impression you're tough on scammers and not an easy sell, they won't even try to convince you! Now if they don't block you? Awesome- now's the time to ask them for the sheet of paper photo.

Scammers use stolen, but legitimate, photographs of pets and vet bills!

The bills are real, the pictures of pets are real. But they're stolen from real fundraisers that other people made on facebook, gofundme, etc. Because of this, you can't rely on a vet bill picture alone to tell if something is a scam! You need to look at the context of the entire post, and check for red flags in the person's blog, etc. That's where things fall apart!

You won't always find a source for pet pictures if you reverse-image search them!

Scammers often take pictures from facebook and other websites that are behind login walls, and these sources won't show up on google. If you reverse-search a picture and nothing shows up, remember to still check for other red flags!

Lastly: If you want to report a scam, you can select 'report something else' > 'unlawful uses or content' > 'phishing'.

Just remember these red flags, or save em for reference, and you'll be a scam detective in no time!

Reposted with permission from @coulsonlives.

[keeganssluttywaist]

**I said I was going to do this so long ago. I am finally going to**

GhostxReader -LONG. FIC.

CW: Non-Con, drugging, sex pollen, literal violence, heavy regret and angst after. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

Disclaimer: I write these fics to help cope with my own trauma. Others use this same method. If you do not do the same. If you do not like dark content feel free to scroll past as this coping mechanism is not for everyone.

You knew what the mission was meant to be. You knew that you guys were meant to breach a lab. Head to the safe house and then get picked up by Exvil the following day.

You had memorized the plan. Something Ghost admired about you. You two were close friends. Well friends is a hard word to describe it. He had feelings for you he refused to ever share. Too fucked up mentally to ever feel like he could be with someone has perfect as you. You had feelings you hid. Just to be professional. Not to make work awkward and not to ruin the friendship you had with the man who didn’t really seem too keen on any new friends.

You had gotten into the lab easy enough. It was meant to be mostly abandoned and you were on guard for any hostiles. However to your shock there was none.

Why would a top secret lab have no soldiers present? It didn’t make sense to you. Something was off. You get into the lab, looking through their files for the information, the intel you needed. Some kind of gas that was released to another group you guys were friendly with. It was strange. The details of it were kept from you. All you knew is everyone was either dead and seemed otherwise untouched by violence. Just dropped.

Or

They were ripped to shreds. Well clothes were. Bruises, cuts, beaten to death and the rest was unknown.

It didn’t make any sense.

All you were told is to find information on SP06.

Interesting name for a gas you had thought. Ghost didn’t seem worried. You were in the files while Ghost tried to get into a smaller more secure part of the lab. Muttering something about wishing they had left the door unlocked when they seemed to run off so quickly. He picked the lock, ignoring your suggestion to break it.

“Don’t want to trigger the alarm system, love” he said to you. You got it. So you busied yourself with the files. Finally you found one. Grabbing it and tucking it into your bag. You were told not to read it. Not to look at it. You would be filled in when it became your business and for now it wasn’t.

You could hear the door get opened with a hiss followed by Ghost’s heavy footsteps. Then the door quickly hisses shut. He turns around banging on the plexiglass door. You rush to the door as see as a white gas starts to fill the small room. You stand back shooting the lock and trying to pry the door open from there. It was heavy but Ghost was on the other side helping you. Coughing and sputtering trying not to inhale the gas as much. Not knowing what he was being dosed with. It swings open and you hold your breath.

His hand grabbing your wrist and as you both take off running. Fleeing the place.

“Did you-“ cough “get what we came here for?” Cough, he asks

“Yeah- I think we have more pressing matters at the moment though dude” you say as you guys swerve trees and jump over roofs that protrude out of the ground. You run for what feels like forever but you know it’s only been an hour and a half before you see the seemingly harmless cabin in the distance.

“That it?” You ask breathlessly your legs hurt your lungs hurt. But you knew Ghost was in worse shape.

“Yeah- fucking hell. It’s blazing out here. Shouldn’t it be cooler at night?” He asks that should have been your first warning. It was freezing outside. You could see your breath. You get into the cabin, slamming the door shut and you look at Ghost your heart hammering in your chest. You look around briefly. It was a small cabin. A living room with one beaten up old couch, a kitchen in the same room. And then one door open showing a bedroom that looked to be a little smaller.

“Do you feel anything do you know what it was?” You ask, your mouth dry. He groans shaking his head.

“No. I don’t know what it was. Something fucking nasty though. I’m burning up” he says, ripping off his vest. He slams it down and you flinch. Keeping an eye on him; concern etched into your features. You took off your own vest. Needing a break from its weight.

“Here my hands are freezing. Maybe they can cool you off” you offer reaching for him. He sighs standing still. Ignoring the throbbing feeling growing in his pants. Ignoring how his vision seems to haze over. Or maybe it was just so slow he almost doesn’t realize it’s happening. Feeling your cold hands reaching under his mask. Trying to cool him.

He didn’t see the switch happen. He didn’t feel it either. He just suddenly saw you as…an objective. His gloved hands reaching for your wrists. The way he yanks your hands off of him and twists you around. Using your own arms to cross in front of your body. You yelp and then struggle but feel the tightness in your shoulders.

“Ghost what the fuck?” You ask he presses against you grinding his almost burning cock against the small of your back.

“Shhh be good for me and it won’t hurt.” He says, your brows furrowed in confusion. As he had already started walking you towards the bedroom. You panicked. Stomping on his foot. He growls but releases your arms out of shock and you turn around to face him putting a hand out in front of you.

“What the fuck are you doing? What has gotten into you?” You asked, you looked for the kindness you normally saw in his eyes but his pupils blown wide, seemed to only emit darkness. A hunger that made you tremble in a way you never wanted to with him. Not with him. He didn’t wait, reaching forward and swatting your hand away grabbing your hair roughly. Your fist pounding on his chest as he walks you back further into the bedroom. As soon as you pass the threshold you snapped out of your blind panic and tried using your brain. Punching him hard across the face.

Which doesn’t go over so well. As he throws you against the nearest wall your head hitting the walll. Stunning you for only a moment. Enough time for him to be kicking the door shut and locking it. He didn’t waste more time pinning you against the wall with his frame as he starts grabbing at your pants. Ripping the button open.

“Ghost stop- this isn’t like you” you try to remind him

“Shut up.” He says, ignoring those pleas and the fear in your voice that normally would break his heart to hear. You feel him unzip your pants and you whimper mostly in shock.

“Don’t do this” you say and he slams his hand over your mouth. Moving to his own pants and unbuttoning them. Taking them down enough to free his cock. Sure you had wondered how big he was. But you didn’t want to find out like this. And not knowing that it confirmed that the man was massive. It just scared you even more. You clawed at his wrist and tried to shove him off. He was much. Much bigger than you. And even stronger than you remember him being during sparring. Making you wonder if he had taken it easy on you this whole time. Until now.

He looks at your pants still on but unbuttoned. Realizing that he couldn’t keep you restrained against the wall and undress you at the same time. So he makes an educated decision. To throw you back onto the floor. You tried to catch your fall scraping your hand against the wooden flooring which was shitty to begin with. His hands meeting the hem of your pants as he yanks them down. Tears blur your vision as you try to kick away from him but he grabs both of your feet. Yanking off your shoes to pull your pants all of the way off. He grips your thighs roughly slamming your legs open with no care for how much it hurts you. He spits on your most intimate area dragging his cock along your folds and prodding at your entrance. Which made you mumble out another plea.

He just laughs. Laughs.

He was so hard being inside of you was all he could think of. He needed it. He needed to hurt you. To fuck you. To violate you. At the sight of his large tip against your cunt he couldn’t help himself from pushing in. He slammed down as soon as the tip breached the first inch. Groaning loudly. The tears filling your eyes finally falling as he begins his painful thrusts. Every single one rocking you against the wooden flooring.

You were sobbing and whining in pain and horror at what was happening to you. One of his hands reaching up and grabbing your face. Roughly. Holding your chin still.

“Just wanna see that pretty face when you cry, love” he groans out.

Every slam of his hips fucking hurt. His cock bullying your cervix to the point where you were sure if it was possible to break it but he might.

Your hands flew to his wrist again. Scratching him deeply. Drawing blood. It didn’t bother him. He would move his hand slightly just to slap your face. See more of those tears he wanted to lick off of your face.

Whoever this man was. He was no longer the Ghost you knew.

He was brutal. Seemingly enjoying every ounce of pain he inflicted. He came just as hard. Each thrust turning into a body slam as he reached an orgasm. Emptying into you. You had hoped you were done. That he was done.

The drug still coursing thick through his body though he wasn’t. Grabbing you up by your throat and shoving you onto the bed. You muttered another plea but he ignored that one too. Flipping you onto your stomach. Securing both hands in one wrist behind your back as he eased himself in again. It somehow was a tighter fit. Making you squeeze your eyes shut and cry out again as he continues. Grabbing your hair with his other hand and yanking it back.

His grip on your wrist was painful. When he leans forward and bites your shoulder, hard enough to draw blood you screamed. Which he returned with a loud moan.

“That’s right. Scream for me.” He says through a wave of pleasure. You don’t know when you went into shock. When you seemed to freeze. Not that it kept him any less brutal. Doing anything to get a reaction from you. Putting you in any and every position he could think of. Jackhammering into you like his life depended on it.

It did.

You lost count of how many hours this seemed to go on for. By the time he was spent- unable to go on any longer you were long exhausted. Your body hurt everywhere and you were barely able to breathe without pain.

Filled with his cum that leaked out of you. Bruises forming and a blood vessel in your eye had popped from the pressure of when he choked you almost to the brink of death. Making the white of your left eye red with the trapped blood.

Passing out on the floor of the bedroom when he let you go and you tried to get away from him only to drop a foot away. He didn’t go to you. He crashed just as hard on the bed.

He woke up first. A pounding headache. His chest hurt. He sits up confused. Disoriented. When the fuck did they get to the safe house? When the fuck did he go to sleep? Why does he not remember anything right now?

He gets up, dizzy and his first thought.

Where is she? Is she okay? What’s bloody happened?

He sees you on the floor bloodied. Bruised. Naked. His eyes widening in horror as he runs to your side. As soon as he touched your shoulder to stir you you woke up. Seeing him. You freak out. Obviously. Backing up from him only to hit the wall.

“No no love, it’s me. It’s okay okay” he tried to soothe

“Stay the fuck away from me” you screeched

“Love, it’s me. I’m not going to hurt you. Jesus baby what the fuck happened?” He asks, the question confused you but you just shook your head. “Who did this to you?”

You furrow your brows.

“You did” you hiss.

His heart sinks. Suddenly the memories start flooding back to him and it’s almost like he’s watching himself as a spectator. He shakes his head.

“No- no I wouldn’t- no” he says refusing to believe even his own memories. Because he would never hurt you. He could never hurt YOU.

He kept his distance from you. Trying to explain from at least 5 feet away that he didn’t understand what happened. That he would never do such a thing. That he feels like something else took over. You didn’t know what to believe. This man that you had never seen this emotion from was crying in front of you trying to understand why he didn’t it.

You got the radio call Exvil was on the way. You didn’t want to stay here. He tried to offer to help you up seeing you struggling to even stand but you denied him. Telling him once again to stay the fuck away from you. You got on your ruined pants, wincing when the fabric touches your skin as everything was bruised and sore.

He kept his distance the whole way to Exvil too. Still trying to peace everything together. Even on the way back to base. He never once looked at you. Just kept his head down at his own hands. Wondering how they could have given such violence to someone he loved without his permission. As soon as you get back to base and saw Price you ran to him. Hugging him tightly for the comfort you needed. He took your face in his hands and almost immediately he knew what had happened. The tears streaming down your face broke his heart but tears streaming down Ghost’s ripped it out.

He explained it to you both in medical. While you were being treated for a concussion and multiple scrapes and stitches somewhere you didn’t want stitches.

“SP06. Sex pollen. Nasty strand of it. Instead of the usual distracting soldiers with the need to fuck something or someone or else their heart gives out. To something that takes over completely. Makes the victims violent. Animals. Tear each other apart to get it out if their systems. Our intel told us they wouldn’t have it there. Just the research for it. Or I never would have sent you two together” he explains you were numb. Staring off in front of you while Ghost tries to battle with himself.

He had done it. Regardless of the drug he had done something he made a point to never do. After everything he had been victim to. He never wanted to make anyone else a victim. And he had. To the person he wanted to protect the most.

You couldn’t stay mad at him. Knowing it wasn’t his choice but you also couldn’t look at him ever again. Months going by and you couldn’t be in the same room as him for very long. Couldn’t look at him. When he spoke to you it made your skin crawl. You left the task force after 5 months. Unable to stand being around him. He was never the same after that night either. He was cold. He was almost silent completely except for when he needed to speak for the job or to price. Aside from that the man was mute. His dreams filled with memories of that night that woke him with a cold sweat and an ache in his chest.

He couldn’t get the sight of you in that corner out of his head. Bruised wrists, neck, face, thighs. Bleeding and tears streaking down your face. The split in your eyebrow. The way you spoke to him. It haunted him everytime he closed his eyes.

In his eyes. He ruined both of you. He hoped you got the help you needed. That you at some point could live a happy life. He felt he didn’t deserve much of that. For all he cared. He could drown in it.

[safetycar-restart]

KINKTOBER DAY THREE: TEMPERATURE PLAY [POLY!CHARLES/Pierre/READER]

NOTE: this is an nsfw imagine with sub!charles, sub!Pierre and Dom!reader. This fic also contains mommy kink. If you’re under 18 or uninterested, then scroll past. If you like what you see, then come check out the rest of my blog!

This work is part of kinktober, where every day of October we discuss a different kinky concept. More ideas surrounding temperature play will be discussed on my blog, so if you have any thoughts feel free to stop by!

The idea starts because Charles starts to show more interest in the more intense side of things. For ages charles didn’t want anything to do with the intense scenes you did with Pierre, choosing to just be your soft little sub, getting fucked hard by you and Pierre but never being involved when you really pushed Pierre.

And that was great! It worked so well with the three of you, but slowly Charles wanted to be more involved in the more intense side too. Make no mistake, he’s always gonna be your soft little bunny. He’s never ever going to want to be tied up and whipped the way his Pierre likes, but he starts to be involved! He’s a good boy! So he should help you!

Of course you don’t even consider getting him involved in the very intense things you do with Pierre, knowing that he’d freak seeing Pierre like that.

But… you can’t exactly just say no. Not when he looks so excited! He clearly had to work himself up to asking, sounding so shy but so optimistic. He wants to be good!! Good for his mommy and his Pierre!!

So you come up with an idea… a temperature play scene.

They’re one of Pierre’s favourites, and it’s so easy for Charles to be involved there without it being too intense.

Charles kneels patiently next to the bed while you tie Pierre up, tying his arms and legs to the bedframe so he’s spread out and completely exposed. Then you blindfold him, giving a quick kiss and checking in before telling Charles to join you on the bed.

You start off by teasing Pierre with his just your hand, running your fingers up and down his chest, randomly scratching your nails without warning. He lets out little gasps every time you do, his cock slowly hardening as he gets more and more turned on.

Charles watches Pierre, his eyes landing on Pierre’s cock and you can practically see his mouth watering. He wants to suckle on it so bad!!

“Mommy?” Charles asks, “can I?”

He doesn’t specify what, but he’s looking directly at Pierre’s cock so you know what he wants. And well, how can you deny such a cute little bunny?

So you tell him he can, but that he can’t make Pierre cum yet. Charles pounces instantly, settling between Pierre’s thighs and taking as much of his cock into his mouth as he can. He licks and sucks it like it’s the best lollipop in the world, clearly enjoying himself.

Pierre pulls at the restraints and groans, clearly not having expected Charles to start sucking him off. You let him enjoy it for just long enough for him to get lost in the feeling and then drop an ice cube onto the centre of his chest. He hisses, body twisting to try and get the ice cube off him but he only succeeds in making the cold water run down his side.

You swop positions with Charles then, giving Charles the bowl of ice while you play with Pierre’s cock. The rule is simple: you get to edge Pierre for as long as Charles still has ice to play with. Once all the ice has melted, Pierre gets to cum.

You edge him without mercy, and the combination of the coldness from the ice cubes Charles is using all over him and the feel of your hand on his cock drive him insane. He’s a shaking mess by the time charles has run out of ice cubes, begging in broken French and English, tear tracks running down his cheeks from behind the blindfold.

You let Charles make him cum, letting him swallow it all up.

[foreingersgod]

I just saw the kate martin x jealous reader and I LOVED IT !!

Can you try to do a jealous kate martin x reader this time???

Literally obsessed with your fics !! 🥹❤️💋

i’ve been waiting for this hehe (you guys have been so nice to me, i love you all sm)

Night at the Gala . KM

pairing: kate martin x reader

synopsis: kate gets jealous <3

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

kate had an event with her team this weekend. some sort of fancy gala to kick start the season, you think. kate hadn’t told you much about it, just that it was a very elegant event and that she wanted you there. and of course you accepted.

you had bought a dress just for the occasion after raiding your closet and realizing you didn’t have anything fancy enough. you opted for a floor length gown, black to match kate’s suit. the neck line had a bit of a dip, which you were hesitant about, but kate assured you it was perfect. “easy access for later” she said.

6 o’clock rolled around, friday night crowds bustling about outside your apartment. you and kate were in the bedroom getting ready to go to the gala. you were still in pajamas, sat at the vanity to do your hair and makeup. kate was busying herself with the cuffs of her blazer. once the last curl fell gently off the iron, you brushed out your hair and ducked into the bathroom to change. it was a stunning dress, really, long and satin with straps looping around your shoulders. the fabric hugging all of your curves so delicately. plus the neckline was definitely doing you favors.

when you emerged, dress zipped up and hair cascading around your face, kate stood waiting. she looked up upon your arrival, lips slowly parting as she took in every inch of you.

“you look absolutely breathtaking” she managed to say, having been absolutely speechless at the sight of you.

“thanks, babe” you smiled, putting on your heels so you could leave the apartment on time. “you ready?”

you attempted to walk past her to grab your bag from the vanity, but she stopped you, hands finding the small of your back.

“you know on second thought,” she purred into your ear “maybe we should just stay home, i’m sure they won’t notice”

she lets her hands wander. her fingers toying with zipper of the gown as you rolled your eyes playfully.

“as much as i would love to stay home with you,” you said “i think the gala will be fun!”

“alright, alright, but this thing is coming off the second we get back, got it?”

“yes m’am”

and with that, you were out the door and headed to the gala.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

the night was going wonderfully, you and kate were having plenty of fun, just as you thought. you caught up with kate’s team and made polite conversation with a few of their partners. kate met with some people as well, discussing her stats and such. things were going smoothly.

you were finishing up a conversation with caitlin, retiring to the bar where kate sat looking for you. she was on her phone, scrolling mindlessly when you took the seat next to her.

“hey, baby” you put your hand on her shoulder “what’re you up to?”

“just responding to some things and waiting for you, lost you back there” she kissed your forehead as you snuck a sip of her drink.

“yea sorry, caitlin pulled me aside earlier to-” you started to tell kate about the conversation you had when you were abruptly interrupted by a tap on your shoulder.

you turned your head around to see a woman, yours and kate’s age, standing behind you. she was tall, blonde, and very pretty. she had a gown on as well. hers about the same length, but pink and strapless. the woman had a nervous smile on her face as she caught your attention.

“hi, oh my god i’m sorry but i just wanted to ask you about your dress!” she stuttered “it’s so beautiful you look absolutely stunning!”

you smiled, relieved it wasn’t some creep approaching you at the bar “wow thank you so much, that’s so sweet of you! yea it’s from bergdorf goodman!”

the woman took the seat next to you, extending her arm to introduce herself “i’m madeline, by the way! i’ve never heard of that brand before, but it seems like their work is incredible!”

you introduced yourself as well, accepting her hand shake. she seemed like such a nice person and you were so flattered that she thought your dress was beautiful. you indulged in light chit chat, telling her about the details of the dress. you told her about how hard it was to get the measurements right and how the straps were so cute, but a pain to get over your shoulders. it was an extremely pleasant conversation.

while you were engaging with madeline, kate sat on the opposite side of you, jaw clenched and lips pursed. she was slightly livid to say the least. she was not very happy with the fact the some other tall blonde was calling you gorgeous, that job was meant for her and for her only.

she hated the way that the woman sat down next to you, someone who was clearly occupied with her girlfriend. she was totally stealing your attention away while you were in the middle of a conversation. kate was irked by the way you just rolled with it, letting the girl shower you in compliments.

who did this girl think she was?

“oh, let me introduce you to kate” you gestured toward her “she’s-”

“i’m her girlfriend” kate cut in, giving the girl a tight lipped smile.

“very nice to meet you” she nervously smiled, a bit put off by kate’s sudden attitude.

you, too, were caught off guard by her response. kate was just fine two second ago and now she was acting snarky with this very kind woman. it was incredibly unlike her.

you shook it off and tried to continue your conversation with madeline. as she chatted with you about one of her friends, an upcoming designer that was interning in paris, you felt kate’s shoulder come in contact with yours. she removed her hand from their place in her pockets, sliding them over to your thigh and giving it a squeeze. you took it as a comforting act, knowing she liked to remain close to you. then she lowered her head, placing a frail kiss to your shoulder, clear for everyone to see. her hands were beginning to move up and down the length of your leg as she continued to trail kisses along your clavicle. she was never this crude in public.

you tried to lightly shove her away, trying to tell her this wasn’t the time. but she continued anyways, hands wandering to other places. poor madeline caught the hint, quickly making up an excuse to leave before she could finish her story.

“it was a pleasure meeting you, YN” she said “thanks for the details on the dress, i’ll definitely look into that brand!”

she scurried away and made her way to another table of attendees. you could only imagine how mortified she was by kate’s behavior.

“what are you doing?!” you whisper shouted into kate’s ear, nearly pushing her off you and out of her chair.

“what do you mean what am i doing?” she shrugged “i’m just trying to kiss you, is that a crime?”

“that wasn’t ‘just trying to kiss me’ and you know it.” you were pretty ruffled given the tone of your voice. “you hate being touchy in public, why are you all over me all of the sudden?”

“well because clearly…” she drawled out her sentence “some people can’t take a hint”

“wha- can’t take a hint? kate, baby i’m lost”

“oh come on” she crossed her arms matter of factly “madeline or whatever her name is? you can’t tell me she wasn’t trying to get in your pants”

you raise your eyebrows at her, close to laughing in her face “kate, oh my god”

“comes over here calling you gorgeous and inserting herself into a conversation? give me a break”

“sounds like someone’s jealous” you sing songed, poking at her chest. “you jealous honey?”

she sneered “no! when have i ever been jealous? i dont get jealous”

“apparently when i talk to other women, you do” you teased “it’s ok to be jealous kate. i like it when you’re jealous”

she quirked a brow “you do?”

“definitely” you smirked, reaching over to her, putting your hands on her thigh like she had done to you. under the overhang of the bar counter, you continued to trail up her leg as you felt her breathe hitch and body tense “but i’d prefer if you showed it to me in private”

she gulped deeply when you removed your hand and slid off your seat, motioning for her to take you home. “someone promised me that they’d be taking this dress of my by the end of the night, if i’m remembering correctly?”

she chewed at the inside of her cheek to suppress a groan. she followed you, leading you to the exit.

“let me take you home, YN”

[ellethespaceunicorn]

The Howling of Claw Creek Forest, Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Of Wolf and Man

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors – DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Word Count: 2.5K

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Chapter Summary: Walter lets you in on his past, and you meet a friend.

Warnings: making out, slight heavy petting, hot werewolves

A/N: This chapter gave me so much grief! A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this. 

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

“I’m on my way over, alright? Just breathe for me. I’m gonna make a phone call and I will be over to your place shortly, okay?” Walter speaks clearly as if he were trying to calm down a frightened puppy.

Well, he’s not that far off.

“Yeah ok. Breathe. That should be easy enough, right?” You proceed to take one shaky deep breath and you laugh when you gulp in too much air and have a small coughing fit.

“Pup, you’re killing me. Gimme twenty minutes. Drink some water. I’ll see you soon, okay?” You hear the way he tries to cover up his worry with a short laugh.

“See you soon, Wolfie.”  

You hang up and undress, throw your clothes in the hamper, and head to the bathroom to take a shower. Your body moved of its own accord, your brain leaving the equation early on to think hypotheticals. Only when you register that the water has gone cold do you turn the knobs and exit the tub. You are just toweling off when you hear the doorbell. 

You tighten your towel around yourself and peek out the bathroom window down onto your driveway. You can see the edge of the black F-150 in the driveway and you heave a sigh of relief. You skip down the steps and walk across the living room to the front door. Opening it, you go to speak but hush and step aside as Walter walks in still talking on the phone with someone. 

He mouths, I’m sorry, before going back to the phone call. “Yeah, alright. Thanks, brother. See you soon,” he ends the call and focuses his attention on you, smiling as you watch him take in your attire or lack thereof.

“So, who was that?” you ask, knocking Walter out of his daydreaming.

“Right, uh. That was Jace. He’s coming down to help us with our little problem. Well, it may not even be a problem. Who knows? Sy might be fine, we haven’t even seen his bite yet.” Walter scratches his beard and shrugs.

Crap.

“Actually, I’ve seen it. He sent me a pic of the bite after we were on the phone on my way home from work,” you reply, wishing you could melt into the floorboards.

Walter tilts his head and squints at you. “He sent you a pic of the bite after you were on the phone on your way home from work? That seems...friendly.” You watch as he bites the inside of his cheek, no doubt leaving something unsaid.

“Yeah, he left me a voicemail the night you both were hurt. But I didn’t listen to it until today. I had to call him to make sure he was okay before I bothered you with possibly a false alarm. I’m sorry I didn’t call you first.” you explain, grabbing his big paw and looking into his eyes.

He can’t help but melt for you, but he tries to keep it out of his expression. He fails, rolling his eyes and smiling. “First things first, pack a bag for a night or two at the cabin. Just for my own worry. So I know you’re safe.” He laces his fingers with yours and pulls you to him, “Oh, and I should probably look at that photo too.”

You pull him with you upstairs and grab your phone off of the charger. Scrolling to the texts, you find Sy’s chat and open it. You turn to look at Walter and speak, “I did not ask him to send a thirst trap. Just want that to be stated clearly.” 

You hand him your phone and he rolls his eyes, using his thumb and index finger to zoom in on the bite. He studies the image for a bit before giving you back the device, sniffing and putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Well?” you press.

“Kinda hard to look at it honestly. Never thought I’d see your ex’s happy trail. So, there’s that variable thrown in there for good measure,” he offers, pursing his lips and shaking his head. “It just seems like he is quite comfortable sending you these.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, you have to tell him. “Look, that day you dropped me at my car, Sy was here. Olivia called him because she didn’t know what else to do. He pointed out the hickey you left on my neck. He’s obviously jealous and he wanted to throw his hat in the ring. That’s all.”

“Well, we’ll just have to make sure he knows who hangs his hat here.” Walter pulls you to him, his large hand going to your throat as your lips connect. He swallows your delicate moans, savoring them as his thumb rubs at your pulse point. He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, and lets you catch your breath. 

You look up into his eyes and can’t stop the dopey smile that forms on your face. You shake your head and say, “Is that your way of asking me to be your girlfriend? ‘Cause, if so? Fuck yeah is my answer.”

“Now, don’t let me stop you from packing. I’ll just sit here quietly.” He sits on your bed and gestures for you to get ready to go to his house.

Pulling a small suitcase from the closet, you gather your toiletries first, zipping their case closed as you walk back into the bedroom. It’s not long before you are in Walter’s truck and starting the trip to the cabin. You yawn for most of the ride, your body finally still and feeling like you could fall over at any second.

You arrive and put your things upstairs. Checking your watch, you realize it’s after 1 in the morning and you suddenly aren’t tired anymore. You didn’t have the chance to wind down after work, now that you think about it. You just stayed stimulated, in one way or another, off and on.

You decide to go back downstairs and see what Walter is doing. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you see him emerge from the kitchen holding an apple between his teeth as he pushes up the sleeves of his sweater.

After a healthy bite, he takes the fruit out of his mouth and walks over to you. “Lemme guess, can’t sleep?” You shake your head and he nods. “Wanna wait up for Jace with me? We can talk while we wait.”

You nod and he takes your hand, leading you to the living room.

“So how long have you known Jace?” you inquire, settling back into the couch’s plush cushions.

“Oh, far too long. I met him when I was turned.” Walter stops there and looks at you, seeing your look of excitement at hearing the story, “Look, it’s not that great of a story. But I’ll tell you if you wanna hear it.”

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, we don’t have to. But just know, it’s been on my mind since the moment I found out what you are. Of course, I wanna know how it happened.” You put your hand on his and he turns it over to hold it.

“It was really stupid. I came here to the States for school and I played football and was in a frat house. I had the whole ‘college experience’, ya know? Um, one kid on the team was kind of a loner but we got along just fine. Melot and I were pretty different, but he needed a friend and I was broke and he paid for everything. One night, he invited me out to a party off-campus. Promises drinks and girls and whatever I wanted. Should have known that was too good to be true.

“Anyway, he drives us out into the woods where this bonfire is going on. And there are maybe ten people there that I can see as we walk up. As soon as we get up to the fire, this huge guy stands up and walks around the fire and greets us. Now, he looks like he eats children and I feel so small in front of him. But he just hands us a couple of beers and whistles over his shoulder. And two very cute girls come running over. All of a sudden, I’ve got a cold beer and a girl on my arm and I didn’t take a second to think maybe this was too good to be true.”

You snicker at him, and he continues.

“The rest of the night is going alright. Then I notice there is a fighting ring going on and I see that they are really going for it. It’s brutality at its finest. I walk up and then the fight stops and I see Melot get into the ring and people start pushing me in. I was drunk enough to agree to fight him, but not drunk enough to lose. I had him knocked out within minutes, or so I thought. 

“I wobbled over to him and turned him over to check out the damage and he lunged at me. Before I could even understand what was happening, Melot was biting into my shoulder. The pain was unimaginable and I blacked out. I came to and was so lost. I woke up and the girl from the night before was holding a cloth to my forehead and she smiled down at me when I opened my eyes. I fell in love with Angie at that very moment. We were inseparable after that. At least for a while.”

You squeeze his hand, not knowing what to say, and he smiles at you before talking again.

“So, Melot is there when I wake up too. He tells me that he wanted to impress the Alpha with a new wolf for the pack. Apparently, Melot thought this would get him some kind of accolades. But, it only pissed off the Alpha for potentially exposing them to humans. Heard they tortured him pretty well after that. Serves him right. 

“I just ended up going back to school after everything. Didn’t see Melot much after that, but I did go back to the pack when I started to feel like I was losing my mind. On the night of my first shift, I met Jace. A handful of them were at the place in the woods and said they expected me sooner. I was so sick, thought it was the flu. They took me in and helped me through that first painful transformation. When I was in wolf form for the first time, all I could do was run. I ran through those woods until Jace tackled me and talked me down. He became my brother that night. He took me under his wing and taught me everything he knew. Which is why I called him about our situation. If anyone can help, it’s him.”

“So, was Jace bitten too? Or...can you be born a werewolf?” you wonder aloud.

“I was bitten. Angie, Jace, and Faye were all born with the lycanthropy gene,” he answers, noting your furrowed brow, “The lycanthropy gene is passed down from werewolves to their offspring. Usually lays dormant until puberty. That’s one thing that Teen Wolf got right. The 80s one, not the MTV one.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised that my Wolfie has seen Teen Wolf, but it still makes me feel all tingly, knowing you’ve seen werewolf media. Oh my God, have you seen Twilight?!” you exclaim, suddenly hyper-aware that you’ve gone giddy.

Walter snorts and pulls you into straddle his lap, cupping your face in both of his hands. Pulling you close, he turns his head to whisper in your ear, “Team Jacob.”

You actually swoon, and your little whimpered moan escapes before you get the chance to permit it. Covering your mouth too late, you lean back at look at Walter’s smug face. You swat at his shoulder and the corner of his mouth turns up.

He has you pinned under him on the sofa so fast, you could hear the air whoosh by. He nuzzles his nose with yours, then moves to kiss from your lips to your neck. You turn your head to give him better access, letting your hand tangle in his hair.

He licks and nips at your soft flesh, sucking and biting his way to where your neck meets your shoulder. While his hips are pressing into you, his hand snakes under your shirt to tickle your skin. You chirp when you feel his teeth graze a particularly sensitive spot. 

You freeze, you’ve never made that sound before.

Walter groans, he likes the sound you made if his hips grinding into you was anything to go by. He gives little kitten licks at the spot again and you melt under his touch.

“I can smell how much you need me, Pup,” he hums, sliding a hand to cup your clothed sex, “Fuck. I can feel the heat coming off of her–Shit,” He shakes his head, kissing your neck before sitting up and getting off the couch. “Looks like we have company.”

You lean up on your elbows, confused until you hear the monstrous rumble of a motorcycle engine getting closer. You watch as Walter opens the front door and disappears into the yard. Soon, you hear the symphony of howling and grunts. You get up from the couch and walk to the open door when you hear the growling get louder.

From the doorway, you see quite a display of masculinity. Two grown men wrestle in the grass like children, laughing and shouting at each other until they register your presence. 

The taller of the two sniffs the air and turns toward you, climbing off of Walter. His piercing green eyes almost seem to glow. A wild mane of dark brown waves with bleached ends frames a masculine face, and a healthy beard outlines full lips. His caramel skin is littered with tattoos from the neck down, a slit in his left eyebrow.

A dark grey v-neck under a vest hugs his built chest, while thick thighs are encased in tight-fitting jeans. A pair of old boots cover his feet, the laces left untied. His long fingers are decorated with a handful of ornate rings and one wrist sports a leather braided bracelet with a wolf charm hanging from it.

His meaty arms cross over his chest and his face splits with a devilish grin, his body is almost bouncing with energy. “Who’s your new friend, Marshall?”

To be continued...

A/N: I really hoped you enjoyed this chapter. Next chapter is already outlined. And just needs to be written. I have a plan, y’all.

A/N 2: Bonus points if you can guess my face-claim for Jace.

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[glorious-spoon]

hi spoon, it's Team! thanks for playing oml I'm excited. OKAY drum roll: 🌃 dark and 🥧 cooking/baking! - @team-118

hi @team-118! a couple of days late, but i hope you enjoy! <3

1.4K words | teen

pre-relationship buck/eddie | mentioned buck/tommy | emotional hurt/comfort | baking

Insomnia Baking [on Ao3]

The kitchen is peaceful late at night. It's dark other than the soft glow of the oven light, which means that Eddie can't actually see the mess that he's going to have to clean up tomorrow morning, and the air smells warm and sweet with the smell of baking.

It's peaceful. With the lights off, in the midnight quiet, he can almost convince himself that Chris is sleeping right down the hall. It's a nice fantasy. At thirteen—fourteen, he reminds himself with a sharply unpleasant pang—Chris is less easy with his affection, but like any growing boy, he's always happy to eat the results of Eddie's insomnia baking. Or he was, when he still lived here.

Eddie's got a dozen chocolate chip cookies in the oven, and another two cooling on the stove top. There's no way he'll be able to eat them all on his own.

He can bring some in to the station. Tomorrow's his day off, but they'll keep fine until his next shift, and he can leave them out there for an appreciative audience instead of spending the next week eating increasingly stale cookies for breakfast by himself.

He heaves the oven mitts onto the counter, then slides down the cabinets until he's sitting on the floor, staring at the stove. The oven door is partially obscured by the distowel he's got hung up on the handle. A Halloween patterned one he forgot to put away—cheerful jack o' lanterns, possibly inherited from Abuela, possibly something he or Buck picked out with Chris. He can't actually remember. Inside the oven, the cookies are starting to spread on the baking pan, the edges of the chocolate chips going soft and melty. The smell of sugar and chocolate and butter fills his nose when he heaves a deep breath, and then another, feeling like he's suffocating. The timer on the stove silently counts down: nine minutes and fifty-seven seconds. Just under ten minutes before Eddie has to find a way to get up off his ass and turn the oven off so he doesn't top off this absolute shitshow of a month by setting his kitchen on fire. He can almost hear Buck ragging on him about it—Come on, Eddie, if you wanted some company you could have just called me.

He digs his phone out of his pocket, stares at the screen, then sets it face down on the floor and stares at the cookies some more.

Then he thuds his head back against the cabinet, picks up the phone again, scrolls through his contacts without looking, and hits the call button.

Buck picks up fast enough to make him feel gratified, and also kind of guilty, given the hour. "E-eddie?"

"I'm not having a breakdown," Eddie says, to the note of fear in Buck's voice. Or if he is, it's not a serious one. "Do you want to come over and eat some cookies?"

"I—is that supposed to be a metaphor?"

"For what? No," he adds, before Buck can answer. "It's not a metaphor."

"You were stress baking again," Buck concludes, sounding calmer. There's some shuffling on the other end of the line. Eddie wonders idly if Tommy is staying the night, and then wonders how much he actually cares about interrupting them if that's the case.

The answer is, less than he probably should.

"I was stress baking again," Eddie confirms. "How about it?"

Any normal person would say no. It's well past midnight, and while they don't exactly keep regular hours, he knows he woke Buck up just now. But it's not at all a surprise when Buck says, "Yeah, of course, be there in, like…" his voice fades and dips for a moment, like he's holding the phone away from his face. "Uh, half an hour?"

It's closer to forty-five minutes, which means that Eddie has time to pry himself off the kitchen floor and take the cookies out of the oven and try to find room for them on the cooling racks. He turns the stove off and starts cleaning up after himself one mindless, methodical step at a time, which is pretty much the same way he's gotten through every task in front of him since May. Flour and sugar and chocolate chips in the pantry, eggs and butter in the fridge, mixing bowls and spoons in the dishwasher along with the utensils for his solitary take-out dinner. He turns it on to run even though it's not even half full and it'd probably be less of a hassle to wash everything by hand.

Eddie wonders again if Tommy is there. What explanation Buck is giving him, if so. He doesn't ask. "Okay. Half an hour."

-

The noise makes the house feel less empty.

It doesn't take long. When he's finished, he stands in the clean, empty kitchen, palms braced against the edge of the sink, and stares out into the night, the vague smear of his reflection in the dark glass.

There are lights on in the house across the street. Soft ones, from one of the bedroom windows. They have a toddler, Eddie knows—he sees them outside sometimes, in passing. A little girl with a dark cloud of hair just like her mom's. She probably gets nightmares. It's common for that age, or at least that's what he hears. He missed most of it with Chris, and even during those rare weeks when he was home, Shannon was the one their son asked for in the middle of the night.

Headlights sweep across the lawn, then come to a stop in his driveway. Eddie stays where he is and watches Buck climb out, lock the Jeep, cross over to the sidewalk, and vanish out of sight around the corner of the house. A moment later, the lock clicks open.

Buck doesn't call out or even turn on any lights. Eddie listens to him pull his shoes off, the sound of his sock-clad feet on the floor as he moves down the dark hallway.

"Hey," he says quietly from the doorway of the kitchen, and Eddie turns.

He's wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair flattened on one side. The hives are pretty much gone, other than faint red blotches along his cheek and jaw, and his eyes are soft.

"You didn't actually have to haul yourself all the way over here at one AM," Eddie says, to cover for the near-frantic relief spreading through him. He sort of wants to rush across the kitchen and collide with the warm solidity of Buck's body, maybe burrow into his skin, but he doesn't move.

Buck scoffs and steps into the kitchen, scruffing a hand through his hair. "I was promised cookies."

"Well," Eddie says, and waves a hand at the cooling racks. He'll need to dig out some containers at some point.

"Sweet," Buck says, and crosses over to the stove to grab three off the top of the stack. He takes an enormous bite, licks half-melted chocolate off of his thumb, and grins at Eddie. "They're good."

"Thanks."

"Did you have any yet?"

"No." Eddie gestures vaguely at the kitchen, the quietly churning dishwasher. "I was cleaning up."

Buck hums under his breath and takes another bite of his cookie, watching Eddie with that soft, thoughtful look that's more perceptive than most people give him credit for. Then he holds out the cookies in his hand. "Here."

"I don't—"

"Eddie."

"Okay," Eddie sighs. He takes one of the cookies and bites into it.

It is good. He takes another bite, swallows hard around the lump in his throat, and pretends he doesn't know Buck is watching him while he eats the entire thing.

"Want to talk about it?" Buck asks once he's done, quiet. When Eddie shakes his head, he doesn't push it, though. "Okay. I figure if we finish off another half dozen of these, we can probably fit all the rest in one of those big Tupperware containers under the sink."

Eddie laughs roughly, smears the back of his hand across his mouth. "Why do you think I asked you over?"

"Uh huh," Buck scoffs. He eats another cookie in three large bites, which is objectively gross and makes Eddie feel stupidly fond anyway. "Well, always happy to help."

"Yeah," Eddie says, and he knows there's too much showing in his voice, in his face, he knows that, but he can't help it. It's one in the morning and Buck is in his kitchen, because he asked, and his house is still too empty, the vacant bedroom down the hall a hollow ache that he can feel in his chest—but. It feels easier—a little easier—to breathe now. "Yeah, I know you are."